


See Me

by Nucnik13



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels, Star Wars: Thrawn Series - Timothy Zahn (2017)
Genre: Action/Adventure (Maybe), Attempt at Humor, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Interspecies Romance, Original Character(s), Plot, original Imperial characters - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2019-03-26
Packaged: 2019-09-30 06:38:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 66
Words: 245,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17218841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nucnik13/pseuds/Nucnik13
Summary: The Chimaera and her passengers find themselves in need of help after the purrgils release the ship; stranded in parts unknown. Ezra Bridger is certain he knows the right person to help them – Dr. Elinor Savona, a brilliant engineer from a backwater world. Naturally the Grand Admiral is skeptical of the young Jedi’s motives, but the woman’s technical abilities are unmatched. Thrawn devises an elaborate scheme to keep Elinor in the dark until the Grand Admiral takes it upon himself to become her protector. The two clash instantly but overtime develop a friendship…and begin to truly see the other in ways neither expected.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I have several confessions to make - and I'll make them every once in a while if I'm feeling as brave as I am now (don't count on it happening often).
> 
> This was written because I was devastated over losing a job I loved. The OFC and I have several things in common (I'm not nearly as smart as she is, though) but I am in a male dominated field and...it cost me. We'll leave it at that.
> 
> Second, please give it a chance. It seems silly, I know. Bare with me?
> 
> Also, many of the OCs in here are based on people I know (names have been changed to protect the innocent and the stupid) so some of the mannerisms and such are from really real people and I'm not using stereotypes - although "Fink" was, and still is a walking stereotype (say it loud, say it proud, girlfriend!)
> 
> Ok...here goes. I apologize in advance. Remember, I'm grieving and people do strange things when they're sad - just ask Elinor.

Part I - Prologue

She was never the girl anyone would look twice at; unassuming and studious. She preferred to avoid attention. Leave her to do her work. She always knew exactly what she had to do.

Her father had joked that as soon as she had come out of her mother's womb, Elinor already had her next twelve moves planned out, including contingencies accounting for environmental conditions with a built-in uncertainty factor. This awareness was not projected to the outside world as arrogance but rather a disassociation with other people.

Several of her elementary school teachers gently chided her parents for not pushing her more toward pursuing friendships with the other children in her kindergarten class. There was a problem with that line of thinking. Elinor Savona, at age 5 was not the usual kindergartener.

She had mastered long division and was starting basic algebra. Her older brother Andrew was reading "To Kill A Mocking Bird" in his high school freshman English class. She discretely offered to help him with his book report.

At age 7, after much coaxing from her parents, the school allowed Ellie, as they called her, to advance to the third grade on the condition that she see the school councilor every week to discuss her "emotional state" and how she felt about being "different" from her peers.

Her parents told her it was to make sure she wasn't being bullied and that even though her mind was advanced, her body was still that of a little girl.

It was in one of these meetings with the councilor that Thomas Savona came to pick up both Ellie and Andrew early from school. Amee Savona had been admitted into the hospital.

Three months later, Elinor remembered tugging at the black dress and looking around. Everyone was wearing black. Andrew sat next to her and stared at their mother's unmoving form on display. She was like a mannequin in a store window. She had gotten very thin too quickly.

Elinor remembered crying. She remembered being angry too. Angry at herself. She had read about cancer in one of the books at the library. She should have known.

She did know!

Ellie thought she had even dreamed it happening!

She could have fixed it like she fixed the tractor engine and the radio and the VCR, when it had stopped working.

She looked over at Andrew. Tears. She looked at their father. Tears. Her heart broke. Was that even possible? She would have to look it up in a book and then figure out how to fix a broken heart.

Yes. That is what she would do. She would fix things. However, it didn't take her young mind very long at all to realize she could only fix _certain_ things.

She could solve things on paper. Things that could be seen and things that couldn't be seen. But never people. Elinor Savona decided to stick with what she could fix.

People were a lost cause. She couldn't fix them. Over the years, she wondered idly, since she was part of the subset "people", what it would take to fix her. She pushed it from her mind.

She decided to stick with what she could fix.

 

 

He felt the pressure on his ribs lessen. The cold feeling was still present. The photo luminescent flashes of blue that had bathed the bridge were receding.

The boy was still standing in front of him, arms outstretched in a defensive posture, but he was obviously losing his strength. There were beads of perspiration on his forehead and his eyes were squeezed shut. A pained look on his face.

Thrawn managed to stand upright with much difficulty and take stock of his environment. The beast or monster or whatever Bridger had called upon the 7th Fleet was still suctioned to the hall of the Chimaera. The bridge was almost deserted save for two techs and a lieutenant working frantically over on the primary control consoles.

The Grand Admiral looked around, his eyes rested on his service weapon 10 meters away, behind Bridger. Before he could formulate a plan of action however, several things happened in quick succession.

Ezra Bridger's eyes snapped open and he screamed. Second, the tentacles of the beast that had been lurking just within the confines of the Chimaera’s bridge whipped away as if they had been slapped by a large invisible hand. The automatic protective durasteel windows fell into place over the retreating appendages and the young man collapsed in a heap.

For only the briefest of moments, Thrawn entertained the idea of shooting him as he lay on the floor gasping for breath, but his own conscience and the loud creaking of durasteel brought him to his senses.

“Lieutenant, report,” Thrawn grunted in pain.

The lieutenant and the techs had watched the scene unfold wide-eyed and clearly terrified of the whole situation. Thrawn shot the trio a look. Those red eyes could convey a level of impatience the Chiss seldom had, but the look was not contrary to the Grand Admirals current state.

“Uh yes sir, uh, the primary systems have been basically over stressed due to the uh...that is to say, the attack…we are running on axillary systems only," the man swallowed.

One of the techs picked up where the other was obviously floundering "Both the primary and aux hyperdrive are in need of repair, dampeners are stressed to the max and there are structural breaches in Decks 10-19...and.."

Thrawn listened grimly, "And?"

"We're still in hyperspace…and they're still attached to the hall, sir" The second tech said, almost too softly for anyone else to here by Thrawn.

_I have seen your defeat like many arms surrounding you in a cold embrace._

Thrawn gazed at the durasteel plates blocking their view of the whirl of hyperspace. Those red eyes shifted again to the boy gasping for breath. He was not a vengeful being. It was a childish sentiment, born out of ego that was usually poorly placed. However,....

Ezra didn't even bother to reach out to the Force. He vaguely registered the black boots slowly walking past him. Barely heard Thrawn pick up the blaster a few meters away. It didn't even startle him when the Grand Admiral leaned down behind him and hissed in his ear.

"You will call off your pets, Bridger"

"Can’t do it Thrawn"

"Did you not call them?"

Ezra chuckled.

Thrawn put the muzzle of the blaster to the boy’s temple, slowly, almost gently.

"I will tell you again, this time very clearly, since you lack the ability to understand simple instructions. Communicate with these creatures in the same way you did when you called for them. Tell them to disengage from my ship."

Ezra turned his head toward the blaster, "No."

Ezra Bridger was still so tired, so weakened, emotionally and physically there was nothing he could do as the butt end of the blaster slammed down on the back of his neck and shoulder blades. He collapsed again, but this time into darkness.

 

 

Chiss didn't get headaches often. It was physiologically possible due to illness or injury but by stress alone, it was almost unheard of for the species. No one could tell the Grand Admiral was suffering though, he was as cool and as unflappable as ever.

Given the extensive structural damage to parts of the Chimaera, particularly the hanger bay and sick bay areas, rooms routinely used for meetings or even living quarters were allocated for storage and medical triage. It had taken three days, but what the remaining crew of the Chimaera had was a functional war room - segregated from the bridge.

"Commander Axon, status please," Thrawn’s coolly modulated voice seemed to carry through the room.

"All systems are stable sir. The engineers assure me that there is now no threat of a radiation leak. Life support systems are stable. However, both the primary and auxiliary drives are...severely degraded. Navigation systems have been destroyed. The new Kuat Dampeners have also been destroyed."

"Kuat Dampeners?" Pellaeon asked.

"Yes sir," Axon confirmed, "That means - "

"It means that if we are so fortunate to lose our travel companions currently on our hall, we won't survive the reversion back into real space." Thrawn finished for him.

There was a long pause.

"Yes sir," Axon confirmed.

"Sounds like we're along for the ride," this coming from Major Cran. "What about gently nudging them?"

"How do you gently nudge a giant tentacled space monster? Tap it on the shoulder and ask politely, please slow down and get off?" Pellaeon grimaced.

"We could revert all remaining auxiliary power to the shield and try to send an electric charge to the hall," Axon suggested.

"That's not likely to help, now is it!" Commander Klary who had been silent the whole time finally decided she had had enough, "It's likely to deplete what power we do have to life support."

Before the table could descend into the pros and cons of cold death in vacuum and tentacle electrocution, Thrawn waved a hand for silence. The headache was getting worse.

"I believe it is time to have a conversation with our young Jedi, since our options are so few. He placed himself in this situation, I can only hope he has a plan for getting himself out of it. Let us try to follow his lead."

There was a collective murmur around the table.

"I'll have two storm troopers assigned to protective detail, Admiral." Major Cran rumbled.

"That won't be necessary, Major. I intend to speak with Jedi Bridger alone."

 

 

Time was a precarious thing. It sped up. It slowed down. Ezra found he didn't have much say into how his own mind perceived it, at least not since being in the cell. There was one thing that was always certain. Time marched on.

He could see the past, friends...family…Hera, Sabine, Zeb, Chopper…Kanan... It hurt to see them. More so than any clip to the back of the head. But he could also see something on the horizon.

No. Not something.

_Someone._

A girl - No - a woman. Medium height, medium build. Short cropped brown hair, sad brown eyes. Very sad eyes. Why, he wondered?

Thrawn. No. A wave of something like relief filled Ezra.

_Not anger? Why not anger?_

Thrawn, on the other hand was fearful. Never would Ezra have imagined the Grand Admiral’s face being capable of such emotion.

The woman saw Thrawn. The brown eyes were more expressive, brought to life and joyful. Thrawn saw her too and the fear in him dissipated.

It was almost like…they fixed each other…

Ezra's eyes shot open just in time to see the door to his cell slide closed. He exhaled shakily and looked around only to come face to face with the Grand Admiral himself.

"Good morning, Jedi Bridger."

Ezra stretched his muscles, making sure to keep an eye on the Chiss, "What do you want, Thrawn?"

Thrawn looked at him impassively. Finally he spoke, "I am curious to know, how you intend to become free of your current predicament."

Ezra snorted. "Yeah, I'll let you know when I figure it out."

Thrawn’s eyes narrowed. "Do you mean to tell me, you have no contingency plan?"

"Not a one."

Thrawn simply stared at the boy.

"Tell me Bridger, what was your ultimate goal in all of this?"

"To get you away from Lothal and the Empire."

"You have succeeded," Thrawn smiled slightly. "How far must we go, until you declare your mission completed?"

Ezra stood up and yawned, "Well, that's just it," he smiled slyly, and he pointed upward, "It's really up to them."

 


	2. Vision

Ezra kept seeing the woman in his dreams. Always sad. Never quite...whole. First, she was sitting at a desk, then laying in a field, staring up at the night sky with tears in her eyes. She was surrounded by tall buildings and people she didn't know and didn't want to know. Fixing things. Always trying to fix things…and Thrawn, where did he fall into this? When the Chiss entered his unconscious mind, he was always standing next to the woman. They changed each other.

Finally, Ezra understood.

His first instinct was to recoil from the vision.

He didn’t even know this poor woman. But he certainly knew Thrawn – the red eyed monster intent on subjugating Lothal. An instrument of evil, bent on using his power to kill those who stood in his Emperor’s way. The Force pulled him away from that thought.

_No!_

_No?_

Thrawn had come to see him several more times after their initial back-and-forth. There were no threats or gloating, mostly there was just a shared melancholy between them. A resigned silence between the two would give way to the Grand Admiral nodding once and leaving without another word spoken.

Should Ezra say anything to the Chiss about his vision of the woman?

It would be best to wait.

 

The chrono said six weeks, three days and 7 hours since the jump from Lothal. They weren't sure that was entirely accurate since so much damage had occurred to the ship’s computer - there were bound to be glitches.

Pyrondi heard it first. “Sounds different, up top, sir.”

Pellaeon glanced down at her, “Lieutenant?”

“I mean, I don’t hear the tat-cluck noise anymore, sir.” She blushed at her own description of the ships strange background noise.

Pellaeon stopped. There was something different.

“Get Axon, Klary and a couple techs up here. Inform the Grand Admiral.” Pellaeon wished there was a nice view port to gaze out while he waited for the inevitable flurry of activity, but those blasted beasts had taken even the monotonous view of hyperspace away.

If he ever got his turbolaser cannons working again and one of those cursed things was in range…

 

She was in a tunnel - long and dark. Had she been crying? There was an oppressive heat rising around her as fire suddenly burst from the darkened end of the passageway. She looked at the flames and walked toward them. The woman stood holding herself as the inferno writhed around her. The flames leaped up, nipping at her ankles, making her fall back. Slowly a fiery hand reached out of the blaze, grabbed her and pulled her into its gaping maw.

Ezra screamed out. Launching himself out of the bunk in his cell on the Chimaera hitting his forehead on the low ceiling of the alcove and barrel rolling onto the floor.

“Good morning,” the smooth voice said above him as he scrambled to stand.

“Thrawn!” Ezra gasped, “We’ve got to go! I don’t know where, but we’ve got to find her!”

One blue black eye brow ached up. “Of course,” Thrawn said dryly, “My apologies, we will need to take your ship as my vessel is in need of repair.”

Bridger blinked.

“Listen, I didn’t want to tell you this before, but I’ve been having this vision and – “

The com on Thrawn’s belt chirped.

“Bridge to Grand Admiral Thrawn”

Thrawn grabbed the com, “Thrawn here, Lieutenant?”

“Sir, we think they’re disengaging from the hall”

His eyes snapped back to Ezra. The boy didn’t seem confused or surprised, just agitated.

“Excellent Lieutenant, we’ll be there shortly.”

“ _We_ , sir?”

“Yes, Bridger and myself.” And before there could be any further discussion, he flipped the com off and clipped it back onto his belt. The Chiss grabbed Ezra by the shoulder and dragged him out of the detention block.

 

Ezra stared at the view screen. They were gone. All of them. The purrgils came when he called them. Now they were gone. The young Jedi suddenly felt very alone. It was like leaving Lothal all over again.

One of the Imperials, Commander Axon, was going through everything that was broken, near broken and working but soon-to-be-broken. Really there wasn’t much left of the Chimaera that didn’t fit into one of those three categories. Ezra stared into nothingness.

“Hey! I asked you a question.” Someone barked. Ezra jumped.

Major Thae Cran.

“What?” Ezra glanced at him dolefully

“Where in the nine hells, did your slimy little friends take us?” Cran ground out.

Ezra shrugged.

“We don’t have our nav computer available. We have limited supplies. Our life support systems are functional, but I’m concerned for the system’s health. We have no hyperdrive. I don’t think we should waste the power amplifying a distress signal until we know where we are.” Axon explained. He turned to Ezra. “Can you offer any clue; any guess as to where they may have taken us?”

Ezra sighed. “What do your star charts tell you?”

“They don’t,” said a woman with light blonde hair – Pyrondi, perhaps, “These systems,” she pointed to three dots on the holo “are not on any known star chart.”

Ezra started to feel a familiar tug.

After a small pause, Thrawn moved around the war room table to get a better view of the three systems Pyrondi identified. “I would advise we pick one of the three systems and begin looking for a viable location to begin repairs on the Chimaera. Scouts should be sent out in search of habitable planets. Such resources will become imperative as time progresses and we must begin the process of establishing a pipeline of foodstuffs now.”

The tug was getting stronger.

“How do we decide on which system?” Commander Klary wondered

“Why wait? We could send out scouts now?” Major Cran shrugged.

Ezra didn’t feel himself move closer to the holo. It was a compulsion; instinctual.

“Why waste those resources?” Axon was asking Cran, as Pyrondi and Klary started a side conversation about the availability of probe droids. They stopped when they saw the Grand Admiral watch the Jedi step, trance-like to the three little specs of light.

The tug was to the last bright little dot… woman in the vision.

He put his finger over the spec of light; it seemed somehow smaller than the rest, but Ezra had to trust the Force. _Kanan_ had taught him to place trust in the Force and in himself. He inhaled deeply, noticed the room had gotten quiet and still.

He turned to face the occupants. “We go here,” pointing to the small spec of light.

All heads turned to the Grand Admiral. Thrawn smiled enigmatically.

“What do you find so fascinating about that system, Bridger?”

Ezra looked at him then. He considered telling him the complete truth, but a bald-faced lie would be more believable. He settled for a very appended version of the truth. “The Force – I think it would be a good idea to go there.”

Thrawn scrutinized him for another long, uncomfortable moment and then, “Captain Pellaeon, inform the helm we will be moving to these coordinates” – indicating the system Ezra had identified – “at .04 sub light. Remind the helm too, Captain, that the Chimaera is wounded. There is no need to injury her further.”

 

When they arrived at the edge of the system 26 hours later, what was left of the Chimaera’s long-range scanners noted eight planets, four were large gas giants. The fifth planet from the star was the largest in the system, but the sixth was spectacularly enshrined with rings, the four closest to the sun were rocky. The third planet looked promising.

A probe droid was refurbished (with mixed results and some swearing in Basic, Huttese, and - was that perhaps a bastardized combination of Trandoshan and Rodian speech?) by several techs and sent out for a peak.

What the techs and communications officers found most interesting though, was not that the third planet was habitable but that it was inhabited…by humans.


	3. Cover

The reports indicated the world would be classified as “primitive” by Imperial standards.

The planet consisted of multiple entities; governmental bodies sharing similar ethnic, religious, and cultural identities but under different laws, social norms, and socio-economic class structures. Each had their own military, level of technological advancement, available resources, etc. Reports continued to come in hourly.

Each had their own unique history, culture, philosophy…and art.

The Chimaera had stayed clear of the planet, using the cover of the asteroid belt between the 4th and 5th planets as well as the shadow of the 3rd planets single moon. Commander Klary had recovered one of the ships probe droids and she had effectively used it to tap into the planetary communications network.

As the reports came in – some in Basic and some not, the Chimaera’s crew waited anxiously for any word on whether the natives were amenable to having visitors and what the Grand Admiral’s next move would be.

When the senior officers entered the war room the Grand Admiral stood in the middle of a whirlwind of….Pellaeon didn’t quite know what to call it, other than _visual noise_.

There was an hour long brief by Lieutenant Pyrondi who had taken on the duty of becoming familiar with the “cultures” of the planet followed by another hour of Commander Axon’s conclusions on their technology.

Major Cran rolled his eyes several times during both presentations and muttered his opinions on the inhabitants of the blue-green gem within their limited sensor range “I’m surprised they managed to survive long enough to develop a written language,” he grumped. After seeing a sampling of several “television programs” the local populace used as entertainment – similar, he supposed, to their holovids - Pellaeon was prone to agree with him.

Thrawn simply sat in the center of the room, absorbing all of it. Ezra Bridger, who was treated with watchful disgust, sat in the back of the room studying what appeared to be a map of the planet. It was beyond Pellaeon, why the Grand Admiral would keep the boy around – he was, after all, the reason they were here having to decipher what a “Master Card” was and why the majority of the populous was raving mad over someone named Donald Trump.

“I understand that the largest continent has a plethora of natural resource available, yes?” Thrawn studied one of several data pads laid out in front of him.

“Yes,” Axon replied.

“I did not see a report on mining or minerals, Commander.” Thrawn observed

“No, sir.” Axon cleared his throat. “There’s no doonium.”

“Raw minerals that can be refined or otherwise reprocessed to make low grade doonium or iridium?”

Axon shook his head, “No sir.”

Pellaeon cleared his throat, “What about tibanna?”

“Not available in this sector, sir.”

Silence.

Pellaeon shivered. If there were no raw materials that could be processed, to fit with their level of technology, how in the stars were they going to fix what needed fixing? And, if they did happen to patch the Chimaera up using just spit and a single hydrospanner, what would they do about their depleted tibanna reserves?

The galaxy was quite a dangerous place, after all! If they had any hope of getting back into Imperial space again, they would need to be ready to _cut_ their way through it.

It was Klary who broke the silence. “We need someone down there to help us identify what options are available to us technologically speaking or we’ll be spending a lot more time figuring out how to fashion hall plating out of trees”

“I think I can help with that!”

The Imperials turned to find Ezra Bridger striding toward the center of the room. Cran automatically went for his blaster but Thrawn waved him off.

Ezra flipped to the holo with the map of each of the continents. Pellaeon gritted his teeth, but Thrawn simply watched as the boy pointed to an area on one of the Northern landmasses.

“Here,” he said matter-of-factly. “Start here.”

The Imperials leaned in to get a better look.

Thrawn placed both of his palms down on the table in front of him. “It would be unwise to make our presence known to the population. Everything I have observed, leads me to believe their entire society would collapse upon itself if they were to be offered evidence of existence beyond themselves. More than ninety percent of the artwork I have studied suggests strong ties to the belief in a single deity...I see observation as the best course of action.”

The young Jedi shrugged. “Have it your way, but you’re gonna need to go down eventually.”

Thrawn’s red eyes flicked to Cran as the Major gave an agitated grunt.

Bridger continued. “There’s a large forest and some mountains nearby that location, very isolated but the person you’re looking for is in a large city nearby,” he pointed on the map. “She can help you.”

“She?” Thrawn’s eye’s narrowed.

“I don’t know her name.” Bridger clarified and shrugged.

“Oh great, a wild Bantha chase on a planet full of vacuum-brained nerf mites, led by the damn Jedi that put us here,” Cran mumbled “let me grab my wooden turbolaser cannon and I’ll be on my way!”

 

Major Cran grumbled sourly as he and two of his men Dizon and Rogyn, sans armor (lest they attract attention) hacked their way through the trees. It had been tricky getting to their destination, they had to wait for the cover of darkness and even then, there was the threat of being spotted by other ships - “aircraft” or whatever these pre-historics wanted to call them.

Of course, there was also the possibility of being seen by a stray person on the ground, but Cran didn’t worry too much about that, as far as he was concerned the inhabitants could all be counted as crazy.

His com beeped.

“Cran here,” he barked.

“Major, it is good to know you have landed safety. What is your status?”

The Grand Admiral’s smooth voice made the Major shiver despite the air being humid and thick.

“We are making our way east through vegetation sir,” Cran looked at Dizon and Rogyn, both had stopped upon hearing their superiors com. “We should be able to reach the city by foot in a day.”

“There is no need. Commander Axon has informed me the indigenous people have personal vehicles – they are quite common. Lieutenant Pyrondi has found an…interesting means of procuring funds for us. If your beacon is correct, there should be a settlement 5 kilometers to the southeast of your current position. Head to that location. There is an organization called “Western Union” which should be able to assist you, com the Lieutenant when you arrive, and she instruct you further.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good hunting, Major.”

 

Thae Cran would reflect on his first week on Earth as being, a learning experience. Even years later he would never ever, even under duress, admit that he enjoyed himself in any way. In fact, he would gripe (almost gleefully to anyone who would listen) about having to learn the currency – Absolute silliness to put pictures of dead people that were no longer relevant on PAPER? PAPER? Archaic. Ridiculous. And the clothing. Ugh. Terrible – he felt like a Kowakian Monkey-Lizard. The personal vehicles (cars) - like riding a children’s toy.

Whatever Pyrondi had done, she had done it well. Cran, Dizon, and Rogyn sat in a cafe in who-in-the-nine-hells-knows-where watching a television set. The waitress, and overly endowed woman excitedly requested the volume of the contraption be turned up when a man appeared to provide a report of some sort.

“…Multiple international agencies are still working to determine how the security breach occurred. Millions of credit card numbers from all over the world were compromised and several authorities have stated, off the record, that millions, perhaps billions of dollars are unaccounted for. No one has claimed responsibility for the breach. Bank of America and Wells Fargo have taken steps to….”

Dizon took a measured sip of his drink, a terrible concoction known to the locals as coffee, and sighed “Guess we know how Pyrondi got us our cover.”

 

The damn Jedi had made it clear that he would know her if he saw “the woman”. Thrawn was giving the little whelp a lot of leeway and part of Cran wondered if Bridger had the Grand Admiral under one of those mind tricks.

Nevertheless, the admiral was playing along and provided Cran’s team with about three dozen cams – 25 were small CR10-XM stationaries perfect for passive surveillance; the rest were slightly larger about the size of Cran’s thumb joint and were mobile – the older style CT10s.

Cran, Dizon and Rogyn had split up, once they got to the city. There was no indication from the great and powerful Jedi who this woman was or where she would be.

It was Rogyn who found her early on the second day.

 

Thrawn and Ezra were in the war room watching the live feeds from each of the three cams. The Grand Admiral had finished scrolling absently through the previous day’s footage of the city’s architecture and had taken note that the morning foot traffic was starting to pick up. He glanced over at the young Jedi who had assumed a meditative posture.

If this woman was not found during the morning rush, Thrawn had resolved to send one of the men with cam at the ready, to at least one of the city’s many art galleries. His musings were interrupted by a sudden movement at his side, unconsciously he dropped his hand to his blaster and started to bend his knees ready to assume a defensive position.

“That’s her!!!!” Bridger shouted

Thrawn sighed. “Show me. _Calmly_ if possible.”

Bridger pointed at the cam feed to Thrawn’s left – Trooper Rogyn’s feed.

Thrawn arched a blue-black eye brow. The woman was ordinary. She was walking briskly across one of the busier intersections. She wore blue pants, a white shirt, and a black jacket. Her hair was brown and cropped short, she wore long earrings and large eyeglasses. Her lips were thin but her facial features were otherwise symmetric. She had dark eyes; tired as if she had not slept well recently. More than that, her eyes were melancholy and searching, almost weary. She could not have been older than thirty standard years.

Thrawn tapped his com. “Trooper Rogyn, the women at the intersection. Short dark hair. Black jacket.”

“Yes, sir, I see her, sir.” Rogyn’s reply was crisp.

“Follow her.” Thrawn ordered.

Thrawn glanced over at Bridger. The young Jedi was simply staring, transfixedly at the image of the woman’s back as Rogyn walked behind her. Whoever this woman was, Thrawn would find out all about her, though he highly doubted even she knew why Ezra Bridger was so intrigued by her.

The Grand Admiral was patient however, he would find this out as well.


	4. Surveillance

He looked up at the holo-capture of the woman. She was wearing a gray dress, with small gray shoes. The dress was cut in a way that made her look feminine but was modest by her society’s standards. She had just offered a homeless man something to eat when Major Cran had captured the image.

“Commander?” Thrawn nodded indicating Axon could begin presenting his findings.

“Her name is Dr. Elinor Elizabeth Savona. She’s 28 planetary years old. Height: 1.73 meters, Weight: 63 kilograms. She lives at 16623 Lockard Lane; a townhouse right outside the city limits. She’s worked as an Associate Engineer at TES - that’s Total Engineering Solutions for the past four years. Prior to that she had completed her schooling and was pursuing post-doctoral research in – “ Axon paused and looked at his datapad. “uh, Quasi-Stable Thermal Mechanical Systems in Low Gravity Environments.”

There was a small grunt over the com from Major Cran – “so this one can tie her own boots, then?”

Thrawn ignored the comment, “Early history?”

Axon continued, “She grew up in what is called –“ another pause, “… _Upstate_. On a farm. She has an older brother named Andrew Thomas Savona who still resides there. Her mother Amee died when she was 7 years old of an incurable disease – ovarian cancer. Her family was considered, under the socioeconomic standards of the area, poor but did not qualify for any type of aid from government agencies.”

“They have such a system for assisting people in need?” Pellaeon asked

“Yes, many of the countries do,” Axon acknowledged.

“Tell me more about her family, Commander.” Thrawn was looking down at his datapad and absently scrolling through images of the woman Axon had found of her throughout her life – mostly reports from a local news outlet documenting her achievements. Apparently, the area in which she grew up was short on noteworthy happenings.

“After her mother’s untimely death – she was 37, her father Thomas continued working the farm but fought hard with the local school to allow her to advance through the curriculum rapidly... There seems to be some form of…bias against girls and women particularly those who pursue an advanced education.”

“Really?” Thrawn arched an eyebrow, “How short sighted.”

Axon bobbed his head in agreement. “She advanced to a university at the age of 14.”

“Isn’t that a bit advanced?” Pyrondi asked.

“Very.” Axon nodded once, “In fact her whole academic career is speckled with achievement. Her first year at university she invented a cheaper means of filtering water to assist homeless people in areas of severe drought. She was offered a monetary reward, but she refused. Her third year she created a pressure sensor by bonding unconventional materials under low temperature, low pressure conditions – something the country’s military was very interested in.”

“You indicated that she _was_ pursuing further academic credentials?” Thrawn inquired

“Continuing research, yes sir.”

“Is there anything in her history that indicates why she changed course and pursued a career in the private sector?”

Axon looked through his notes, “Her father died shortly after she attained her advanced degree.”

Thrawn seemed to ponder this. Finally, he turned to Axon, “What is her health history, Commander?”

“Uh…” Axon’s face started to warm, other than her height, weight and age he was not able to attain anything other than her hair and eye color from public records. “Those records are…difficult to obtain, sir.”

“Find them please, Commander.”

“Yes, sir.” Axon paused. The extent of the woman’s abilities were not lost on the occupants of the war room. “Admiral, it does not need to be said, but I will say it nonetheless, this woman is quite intelligent.”

“Indeed.”

“That, however, makes her dangerous.” Axon felt his face harden.

Ezra Bridger who had been silent for the entire presentation, stirred. Thrawn turned his head slightly as if he were acknowledging the movement, hyperaware of the Jedi’s every move.

“I am…hesitant to characterize her as such, at this time Commander. I would like to study her further.” Thrawn turned his head back once he noticed Bridger seem to relax. “Major Cran?”

“Yes sir?” came the crisp reply over the com.

“I would like your team to prepare a surveillance plan. Coordinate with Lieutenant Pyrondi,” his eyes flicked up to Pyrondi, “she and several of the Chimaera’s crewman have developed an interest and familiarity with the culture. They will assist you in developing an identity if need be.”

Pellaeon almost laughed at the Major’s response. Was it possible to sound demoralized via com?

“Yes, sir.”

“Adjourned.” The dismissal by the Chiss was clear, but the Grand Admiral continued to stare at the holo of Elinor Savona.

 

In the end Cran’s surveillance plan was deemed acceptable by Thrawn, but that didn’t mean Cran was going to be the one executing it. That’s why he had Dizon and Rogyn.

The two stormtroopers were starting to endear themselves to him and it was infuriating. That’s why stormtroopers wore armor, kept their faces covered and were known by alpha-numeric identifiers. All the getting-to-know them bit was getting on his nerves. Rogyn seemed to be the most jovial of the two, which vexed the Major to Lothal and back.

That was why Rogyn got to be the “the Bug Guy.”

Elinor Savona’s townhouse was in a wooded, well-established, quiet neighborhood. It also helped that she slept with her windows cracked open slightly. It wasn’t difficult for Dizon to cut the flimsy metal screen used to keep insects out and empty the container of beetles Rogyn had purchased at a shop specializing in instruments to capture fish, as well as bags of what looked, suspiciously like flash frozen Bantha dung (the proprietor referred to it as “jerky”).

After emptying the container Dizon gently let loose one of their CT-10s, making sure the Chimaera’s war room had a good signal – the on-duty Com Officer and Dizon decided to label the signal “Beetle” as a joke.

The next day, was the only day of the week Savona did not make the trek into the city to her office. The men and women watching her had discovered rather quickly that Elinor was a creature of habit. She would wake at the same time every day. Take the same route into the city every day. She offered food, water and occasionally money to a homeless man on the street. On rare occasions she would go out with some of her co-workers for lunch but would mostly listen to their conversations; rarely partaking in them.

 

On the one day she allowed herself a reprieve from her work, she would walk to public transportation and travel to a market to buy food. Elinor would sit in her large arm chair next to one of the windows and read for a few hours. On days with poor weather, she would then disappear to the second floor, return down to the ground floor an hour later in a different outfit, sweaty and winded to grab a drink, then immediately return upstairs to bathe.

On days when the weather was better, she would trot down from the second floor in the same outfit. She would stretch, lock her front door and bound down her front steps. She traveled the same path – a park near to her home – about 8 kilometers in slightly less than an hour. Afterward, Elinor would come home, unlock her door jog upstairs, bathe, change into shorts and a shirt with a logo of one of the local sports teams and make her mid-day meal.

The rest of the day would be spent in her arm chair reading or on her notepad, perhaps working. Everything Elinor did seemed planned, exact. She lived a passive existence. She was very quiet. Which is why, the shriek of surprise and disgust coming from 16623 Lockard Lane was so uncharacteristic of Elinor Savona.

 

Pyrondi intercepted the call.

“Hello, this is Rogyn’s Extermination Service. How can we help you today?” she asked cheerfully.

“Hello, I um…have a problem,” The voice on the other line sounded sheepish.

Cran, Dizon and Rogyn were listening in and Elinor’s tone caused all three men to laugh out loud.

“Yes, ma’am, how can we help?” Pyrondi prompted.

“I um – I don’t know how it happened, but…I have beetles in my kitchen.”

“That’s absolutely no problem ma’am! We can take care of that for you! Can you please tell me your address and I can see if we have a technician in your area that can come and check things out for you?”

As the woman gloomily gave Pyrondi her information, Dizon and Rogyn were taking turns eating pieces of gnarled leather. Cran grimaced. “What in the Nine Hells are you two eating?”

Dizon looked at him and shrugged, “It’s that jerky stuff, from the beetle place.”

Cran stared at the two stormtroopers and shook his head, “Idiots.”

Pyrondi had informed Elinor that there was indeed a technician in her area and it would be a pleasure for Roger’s Extermination Service to take care of the pests inside her home – their technician, “Larry” would be there in 15 minutes. Elinor thanked her profusely.

“Hey, _Larry_ ,” Cran elbowed Rogyn in the ribs. “You’re up.”

 

She answered the door, looking relieved, “Hello, are you Larry?”

Thrawn noted her voice seemed somewhat strained.

“Yes, ma’am. I understand you have a problem with some beetles?”

“I do, yes. In my kitchen.”

Her face was flushed, as if in embarrassment. She led Rogyn to her kitchen and shakily pointed to the sink. “There.”

The cam shifted as Rogyn began to assess the situation as required by his personae. Thrawn looked down at his datapad again. She wouldn’t be happy with the second part of Cran’s surveillance plan, but based on his assessment of her, she’d respect the professional opinions of others.

As usual, the Grand Admiral was not wrong.

 

“The extermination fee includes the inconvenience charge ma’am” Pyrondi said in a soothing voice.

Cran admired that about her. She could probably talk a Jawa out of his sand crawler.

“I’m not sure…” said the voice on the line.

Pyrondi went in for the kill.

“Rogyn’s Extermination Service is insured and bonded. We promise to take excellent care of your home – those pests won’t know what hit them. A temporary all-expenses paid stay at the Hilton in Uptown is simply for your own safety, ma’am”

A pause.

“Only 24 hours?”

“Yes, ma’am”

“Ok.”

 

Cran, Dizon and Rogyn with support from several of the Chimaera’s com officers set up 12 of the CR10-XM stationary cams and 7 other CT10s. The 12 XMs were just labeled 1 thru 12, but the CT10s, since they were mobile were given names…The com officers, techs and crewman were polled for the event.

Since tapping into the planet’s communication satellites, the Chimaera’s crew had received an education on Earth “culture” and had therefore decided to put their new knowledge to use. Henceforth the CTs would be labeled on the communication dashboard as Jerky, Beyoncé, Jell-O, Honda, Christmas, Baseball and Walmart. Of course, Beetle remained silently patrolling the woman’s living room.

After checking the feeds, connections and little cams several times, Cran, Dizon and Rogyn locked up Elinor’s front door, but not before getting rid of the _real_ bugs.


	5. Walking on Sunshine?

She woke up to the radio setting of her alarm clock.

Ellie got up and stretched before turning it off allowing the last little bits of "Walking on Sunshine" by Katrina and the Waves to linger.

She showered, dressed, and despite her better judgement applied a little makeup to her face. It was, in her opinion, a useless gesture. There wasn't much you could do about covering up plain plus freckles. She'd have to apply it like paint and being able to move and feel her face was something she preferred instead of looking monochromatic. A little bit just made it look like she tried.

She grabbed two bottles of water, locked her front door, bounded down the stairs and walked briskly to the bus stop humming to herself. The 59 Bus took her to the light rail. The light rail would take her three blocks away from her office in Uptown. The walk to the office was pleasant - there wasn't a cloud in the sky, but it was going to be hot again today - high 90s.

Mike was out near his bench again this morning with his radio on low, ironically "Walking on Sunshine" trumpeting enthusiastically as Elinor approached.

"Hi Mike." she waved.

"Hey hey hey, beautiful girl!" Mike stood up from pushing his sleeping bag back into his shopping cart. "It's a fine day, here in beautiful Uptown!"

"Sure is. But it's going to be hot, so you should be careful and stay well hydrated." Ellie produced one of her two water bottles from her purse.

Mike's wide smile was missing some teeth, but he bobbed his head in appreciation. "Will do, baby girl! Will do. Thank you, sweetheart!"

"Your welcome!" Things were what they were with Mike. Elinor had concluded from observation that people who, in general, were disadvantaged, were also the ones that could simplify an unnecessarily complicated world, if they were just given an opportunity.

"Keep walking on sunshine, beautiful!" He called after her. She gave him a thumbs up.

Elinor continued toward the front entrance to her office. She crossed the last intersection and made her way to the revolving door, but she stopped and turned.

The hair on the nape of her neck stood on end. The impression of someone watching her was faint, but it was there. She looked briefly over her shoulder from the direction she came.

_You’ve got butterflies, Elinor!_

She had been working a lot lately, even for her. Perhaps today would be an acknowledgement of her dedication?

Total Engineering Solutions was a large company that was contracted by such heavy hitters as Lockheed Martin, Boeing, Westinghouse, GE, and, on occasion, the United States Government to solve technical problems that their internal expertise had neither the know-how or time to tackle. As such TES had gotten a reputation for being one of the best in the business for R&D, engineering and management of large technical projects.

Ellie was part of the Mechanical Aerospace and Nuclear Engineering Department (MANE). It was her dream job. And now, here she was poised to become the lead engineer of the department...if all the rumors were true.

At first, she refused to acknowledge them. It was impossible. Privately she had hoped. All the improvements she could make! The streamlining she and her co-workers had always talked about! She could make it happen!

And George Liu was retiring.

Who better to take his place, said the water cooler whispers?

Her co-workers had unanimously declared her to be the "heir apparent" and suggested she buy stationary befitting her soon-to-be title. It was never good to count your chickens before they hatched as her father would often reminder her in her youth.... but she had worked so hard.

She didn't have family in the area. No friends, really. No social life. Few hobbies. She had her work. She loved her work. Sixteen-hour days, six days a week were the norm for her but not out of obligation. It was out of devotion.

She entered her cubicle and hung up her cardigan and purse and barely had an opportunity to check e-mail when Benjamin Finkleton came by for his morning round of gossip. Finkleton, or rather Fink, as everyone called him, was flamingly gay and quite obviously proud of it.

He was a little older than Ellie and had taken it upon himself to pull her out of her thick shell, take her shopping and attempt to educate her on all things fashion, pop-culture, social media, etc...Much to her chagrin, she did enjoy it - not so much the shopping and watching TV part - but rather talking to someone that did not view her as a freak. Still she wouldn't call Fink a friend, rather an acquaintance. Elinor Savona didn't really have friends.

Fink stood at the door to her cubicle with his hands on his jutted-out boney hips in an exaggerated expression of irritation.

"OMG, girl where have you been!? You're like a full 3 minutes late! I was like, totally going to send out a search party!"

He paused for just a heartbeat and then gasped and flapped his hands excitedly, "Oh Oh Oh! I have to tell you... guess who said that the new guy from Electrical Systems Engineering is totally batting for my team?” Without the pause associated with the expectation for an answer, he blurted “Angie! And she knows everything! Right?"

Elinor couldn't help but smile slightly. "So, go and talk to him or you’re never going to be able to finish that Turbine Vibration Calculation for the Xcon contract. You’ll be too busy thinking about Mr. Electrical Systems Engineering."

"Not without my wing girl!"

Long pause. Elinor stared at him blankly. "Me?"

"Duh, girlfriend! You're going to help me seduce him."

Right on cue, as if he were called in to caption the awkward moment, Rick Haines walked into her cubicle. "Who we seducin'?"

"You're mother, Rick. Mind your own sauciness." Fink snarked.

Rick smirked as he wiggled his eyebrows. "I’m surprised you haven't already had her Finky, my boy! Ma's always been a kind-hearted gal, I can see her giving you a pity fu-"

"OK, OK, OK" Ellie interrupted, "When is our strategy meeting, again?"

"Now" Fink and Rick growled simultaneously.

 

The strategy meeting was short and to the point.

Each engineer has a laundry list of calculations, presentation and miscellaneous action items to perform to support the Xcon contract….

The finishing touches needed to be completed in just a few weeks….

The work on the radiation dose calculation to support the new reactor design for New Reactor Technologies Incorporated was ahead of schedule…

There was a new rule about parking out in front of the building between the hours of 4am-6am…

Oh, and another meeting will be scheduled for this afternoon at 1pm to announce George Liu's replacement as lead engineer of MANE.

Heads shot up. All eyes landed on Elinor. She felt her face warm and her hands fall into her lap.

After the meeting Fink, Rick, Tate and Mark surrounded Ellie with glee in their eyes.

"So?" prompted Fink

"So what?" Ellie asked.

"This is totally it! You're gunna rule the world, girl!" Fink danced happily by wiggling his hips and then in mock seriousness "I think we all get raises though, am I right?"

"Have you heard anything at all?" Tate the newest engineer in the group who specialized in civil and structural systems asked quietly.

"No. Nothing."

"Screw it! I'm in the mood to celebrate with wings! I say we go out for lunch. We all know she's getting it. They'd be morons not to give it to her!" Rick barked.

Mark looked up at him. "Yah dude, I could go for some wings." His accent thicker than normal today.

“Good, it’s settled. Let’s go to the place with the waitress that has the big tits.” Rick grinned evilly.

While Mark and Tate gave Rick the “if-you-act-like-that-we-will-leave-you-in-the-car-with-the-windows-rolled-down” speech, Fink smiled. "Good, it's a nice day outside. We can walk."

 

The wings were good. The conversation was even ok, until...

"So Ellie, dating anyone?"

This was Rick trying to embarrass her.

"No.” She said flatly

"Huh. Why the hell not? Oh, I know, you're always at the office. Try online dating or speed dating or something!"

"Cut it out Rick" Fink glared at him.

"No, it's ok Fink" Ellie assured him as she looked over at Rick disdainfully.

Rick smirked at her. She knew he was just teasing her but growing up with an older brother and being in a male dominated field all her life taught her a few things...when to dish it out and when to take it. Today, she was in the mood to dish it out.

"I really don't want to do that because I'm afraid I'll find someone like you, Rick."

Rick's smirk widened into a huge grin. Mark and Tate looked on - they'd seen this movie play out before.

"Someone intelligent and good looking, you mean? Someone that could make you a lady in the street but a freak in the bed, perhaps?” he licked his lips suggestively. “I do have to warn you though, I do like my women a little on the trashy side."

Elinor scrunched up her face in mock confusion. "No, I mean someone with a ducted-taped blow-up doll named Bertha and an unhealthy sexual attraction to livestock."

Fink spit his drink out and Mark and Tate laughed loudly.

Elinor continued. "So, you like a _ewe_ in the sheets and a _bleat_ in the streets, you say? I'm sorry, I don't quite understand it when you say trashy, do you mean _un-sheared_ and _without_ a bell?" she looked at him with an arched eyebrow as the whole table gave up trying to contain their laughter. Fink was beside himself.

"Oh, damn girl. Rick Haines you just got burned. Snap. Crackle and POP!" Fink snapped his fingers flamboyantly.

Rick only laughed. "That's ok, I know she wants me"

"Yeah. Like gonorrhea." Ellie rolled her eyes.

The table erupted into laughter again and Elinor was thankful the topic of her dating was not brought up again.

On the walk back to the office the guys were talking about TV shows (Elinor didn't watch TV) and once again, she had the feeling in the pit of her stomach that someone was watching her. She ignored it this time chalking it up to chicken wings and butterflies over the upcoming announcement. She glanced at her phone – she had to remember to take her medicine when she returned to her desk – that maybe the reason for the fluttery stomach too…still, Ellie kept watching for anyone paying an undue amount of attention as the group made their way back to the TES office.

 

A pin could have dropped in the conference room and sounded like a nuclear weapon detonating.

George Liu looked around the room with a smile.

"Without further ado, let’s bring him in so you can meet him, then!" he stood up and opened the conference room door.

In stepped Martin Tassi

George made the brief, albeit painful introductions. The new lead engineer seemed disinterested in the group of technical experts, he was just recently assigned to manage, however Tassi's eyes rested on Ellie for a moment when George introduced her.

It made her skin crawl.

"Well, I believe that's all, Marty. I'll leave you to it. I'll be here for another few weeks so if you have any questions please let me know. You’ll take over once I’m finally out of here and on the golf course,” George said with a laugh. “Oh, and Dr Savona is also very knowledgeable, she'll be able to help you as well. Welcome aboard!"

Ellie cringed.

The door slid closed behind George and it was just Martin Tassi and the MANE group - a total of 20 engineers being led by someone new to the company…He would probably take this time to explain his vision for the group, priorities, maybe even crack a few jokes...

"Do you all have your current assignments planned out for the Xcon contract?"

There was a collective murmur of acknowledgement.

"Good. Carry on with your current activities, until we get more information on the New Reactor Technologies specs."

It was a dismissal. Well, perhaps he would explain things individually....

As everyone got up to leave the conference room, Elinor felt someone at her side, "Dr. Savona?"

Ellie's stomach lurched. Oh no. "Please call me Elinor."

Martin Tassi smiled. It wasn't a nice smile either. It was...unsettling.

"Excellent. Please, may I see you in my office."

She forced her own smile. "Of course."

 

Tassi's office was surprisingly well put together. So soon? He must have already had some time to unpack his things and get settled prior to the announcement....she turned away from the certificates hanging on the wall opposite his desk. So engrossed was she in his Project Management Certificate, PE, and MBA that she didn't notice him close his door and instruct his secretary to hold all his incoming calls.

Admiring my credentials, are you?" he asked as he approached her.

"They're very impressive" Elinor wanted to be done with the back-and-forth getting to know you bit. She was more interested in his strategy for MANE. What was he going to do about alleviating some of the administrative nonsense the engineers shouldn’t have to be dealing with? What about process improvements? Streamlining some of their redundant calculations?

"Not nearly as impressive as yours." he was very close to her now.

Little warning bells went off in her head. She decided to move the conversation along.

"I'm interested to know what you think of the upcoming Reactor Technologies contract and the workload it will bring to MANE? Do you expect our in-house resources will be able to handle the work or will we need to subcontract out or hire new talent?"

She dared to glance at him. He was looking her up and down. Like a piece of meat. "I believe teamwork will get us through," he said as his eyes rested on her chest. "I think you and I would make a great team."

Elinor's face became red and she felt her temper rising. "MANE consists of excellent engineers, we all work very well together. We have a lot of ideas about some improvements that can be made. I hope you’ll be amenable to hearing them."

"I'm very interested in hearing _your_ opinions, Elinor. George said you are extremely intelligent – you’re the only woman in the group after all - and have a talent for...getting things done," he let his eyes wander again.

"High praise." she focused on keeping her voice from shaking. Her opinion of him was set – Martin Tassi was a chauvinist, he liked to patronize, he wanted to intimidate her. And right now, he was doing a good job of it too. Tassi was slowly encroaching on her personal space and she felt herself start to panic.

"Perhaps we can discuss this over dinner tonight?" Tassi smirked and moved his hand toward her waist. Elinor’s heart skipped as she instinctively backed up - right into the credenza below his hanging certificates.

"It’s so good to see someone so passionate about their work. I just really look forward to…talking with you more."

Elinor stopped. She barely heard him over the banging of her heart against her rib cage.

"I - " she stammered

"I wonder..." he said as he bent down slowly to lean against her and whisper in her ear, "how passionate are you?"

His hand was up her dress before she knew it. Elinor jerked and before he could grab her thigh, she slammed her heel down hard onto the man’s foot. He yelped like an injured dog and was jarred just long enough for her to push him aside. She didn't look back. She flung the door open and ran. She ran. And ran until she stood in front of the HR office sobbing.

 

She felt like a coward. Once she had collected herself, she made her statement to HR, but she couldn't bear to go back to her desk. She called Fink and asked him to bring her cardigan, purse and laptop to her at home when he was done at the office. Ellie wandered out of the building toward the train station, still in a state of shock.

If she had been slightly more cognizant, she would have noticed the man standing across the street watching her.


	6. Trusting Soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for not warning you about the last chapter and the work place sexual harassment/sexual assault. 
> 
> If you're still with me you're being very patient - thank you!

Thrawn was livid.

The occupants of the war room had watched it happen via the CT10 following her. There was nothing anyone could do. They were half a million kilometers away. Even Major Cran and his team were powerless to help her. If this woman was meant to help them, as Bridger had so adamantly claimed, he wasn’t going to watch her be assaulted.

“Major Cran?”

“Yes, sir?” Cran’s voice sounded strained, as if he were trying hard to work his jaw. Undoubtedly, he had watched the scene play out as well.

“Prepare an extraction plan.”

“Yes sir.”

 

Naturally Benjamin Finkleton wanted to know _everything_.

Ellie didn’t like this about him. He was too nosy.

She didn't want to talk about it. Fink was persistent. She realized as he was making her a cup of tea, that he was only trying to be helpful and comforting.

"Was it something to do with you not getting the promotion?"

"No."

_Why can’t you just lie, Elinor?_

Ellie was a terrible liar. Her face contorted into a grimace and turned a terrible shade of red whenever she tried. Even as a child, she could never pull it off. It amused her parents to no end and frustrated her brother.

"Did you get canned?"

 "No."

"Girl, you got to give me something!! C'mon. I'm here for you." Fink put the cup of tea down on the coffee table and rubbed her back. She flinched away impulsively.

He looked at her then.

"Wait. Oh no. No. No. No. Did that scum bag try something with you?"

"I -" she stammered as she looked down at her lap.

She was nothing more than a coward, but she wouldn't cry.

"Oh honey!" Fink didn't try to touch her again and even though Ellie knew he wasn't a threat - even she could probably snap him like a twig if she had to - she was thankful he didn't try.

Through her stammering and obsessive need to pace the room, she told him everything. To his credit he didn't interrupt.

"Did you make a statement to HR?" he finally asked.

"Yes. I talked to Linda. She documented everything."

"The woman with big boobs who dresses like a street walker and hides under the upper managements desk?" his voice was condescending as he raised his eyebrows.

Elinor stopped pacing. She wasn't good at characterizing people the way Fink was. "Um…Linda Smith?"

"Yeah, her." he snorted.

"Uh, I guess." Ellie resumed her trek around her living room.

"And did you get a copy of your statement?"

"Yes. She said she'd send it to me via e-mail."

"Let's see it." Fink pursed his lips and put his hands on his hips, clearly not taking any arguments.

Resigned she plopped down, opened her laptop and logged onto her work e-mail account. Several times Fink had to, just about, beat her over the head with a couch cushion to get her to focus on the task at hand. Several work items had accumulated during her cowardly run-away from the office and she was anxious to address them. Finally, she found the email from Linda Smith with a pdf attachment.

She felt the scowl on her face more so than usual due to the stress of the day.

"The attachment won't open."

"What the hell? Ok girlfriend, let me have a look." Fink scooted her out of the way.

 

An hour later and no luck with the attachment, Fink was irate.

"What a skanky little bitch."

"Benjamin Finkleton!!!" Ellie admonished.

"No, I'm serious Elle. She's a nightcrawler. You need to march your naïve little ass up to HR tomorrow morning and tell that hoe to give you a paper copy of your statement."

Ellie was emotionally at her breaking point.

"I just want this behind me! I don't even know why it happened!" she screamed, "I'm not fun to be around. I didn't ask for his hand between my legs. My dress came down to my calves! I'm not even pretty!"

She collapsed back down to the couch. Her shoulders were hunched in defeat and all she wanted was to work on her mechanical equivalency calculation for the Xcon control components. Elinor just wanted to be left to herself and her work – something she could fix. She didn't like how people were. She didn't like how she couldn't fix this. She wondered what it said about her, that she seemed more upset about the disruption to her work than the violation of her person.

Fink sat down next to her and gently put his hand on her head.

"Sweetie, it's not about your personality, or how you dress or what you look like...it's about power...he wanted to exert power over you."

Ellie continued to stare into space. She felt like such a coward. She felt dirty. She felt like it was her fault because she couldn't fix it….any of it.

_What is wrong with you, Elinor!?!_

"Look at me, Elinor." Fink said softly

She looked over at him.

"You did nothing wrong."

 

After attempting to recover some of her dignity, she thanked Fink for the tea and went immediately to bed, emotionally exhausted. She woke up the next morning feeling wrecked.

Still in her daze as she walked to the bus and then to the train, she once again didn’t notice, this time, two men watching her.

 

“Has there been any news from the rest of the 7th Fleet, Captain?” Thrawn asked.

“No, sir. Still nothing.”

Thrawn stood on the bridge of the Chimaera. The ship was on low power ops and the crew pits were sparsely occupied with techs. The Grand Admiral sighed.

Suddenly Ezra Bridger barged onto the bridge, both stormtroopers guarding the blast door swung their weapons around. Thrawn waved them off, as he stepped forward.

“Jedi Bridger?” he nodded.

“You can’t take her away, yet!” he exclaimed.

“Excuse me?”

“Elinor. You’re planning on bringing her here, to the ship.”

“You have stated on numerous occasions, that she would be of assistance to the Chimaera. I intend to use her in that capacity.”

“Not now.” The boy shook his head vehemently.

“And why not?” The Chiss cocked an eyebrow.

“I – I can’t tell you why.” Bridger sighed.

The Grand Admiral’s eyes narrowed. Without warning, Thrawn grabbed the boy by the throat and lifted him up off the deck with such speed that Pellaeon stepped back, never having seen the admiral lose his temper before.

“I grow tired of these games Ezra Bridger.” Thrawn growled, “You will tell me why she is so important, or I will find it out from her. Either way I _will_ have an answer.”

Bridger simply stared at Thrawn. “It’s for your own good” he whispered. Thrawn loosened his grip slightly so that Ezra could speak clearly. “You don’t trust me. I understand that. But, trust in the Force.”

Unceremoniously, Thrawn dropped him to the deck. Ezra gasped and coughed loudly.

“Ah, so that is what this is. More Jedi devilry?”

Ezra shook his head. Thrawn stared down at the boy with his arms crossed over his chest.

“One planetary week, Bridger.” Thrawn hissed “Then she is ours.”

 

Ellie rushed into her cubicle. If she could just start on her work, maybe, just maybe, the rest of the world would stop existing. She wouldn’t have to see Martin Tassi or if she did HR would have schooled him in the company’s sexual harassment policy and he would be appropriately apologetic. Even then…

She cringed. She never wanted to lay eyes on the man.

The other men in the group would kid around, tell crude jokes; Rick was always out to make her blush – he turned it into a game, but it was…different. They weren’t malicious. It was done in jest. What Tassi did was vile and was meant to make her feel inferior. She didn’t even feel comfortable wearing a dress anymore.

She jumped when Fink entered her cubicle.

“Hey, you.” he said, his eyes full of worry.

Elinor bobbed her head in greeting. “Hi.”

“Didja call Linda-The-Skank-Smith, yet?”

“Oh, uh. No, not yet.”

“Get on it, girl.” He wiggled his finger at her, as she nodded solemnly.

 

When Elinor did call Linda, the woman confessed confusion over the e-mail attachment and promised to resend it immediately. As she waited, there was a quiet knock on her cubicle wall. She turned. It was George Liu.

“Hello George.” She smiled softly.

“Hi Elinor, do you have a minute?”

“Of course.”

George ushered her into his office. He had started to clean his filing cabinets out, obviously anxious for his retirement. Boxes of his personnel belongings lined the edge of the wall and Ellie could see he had arranged piles of books and papers by subject matter; likely readying to bequeath them to colleagues.

“Now, Ellie, I was alerted to an HR report last night.” George said as he closed his door.

Elinor felt herself stiffen.

“Yes.”

“I have to say I’m a bit shocked.” George shook his head sadly.

“I was too.” She started to relax. It seemed like she had an ally in George.

“I’ve got to say, Ellie…I – I’ve known you for four years. I’m a trusting soul. I honestly feel betrayed.”

Elinor didn’t know what to say to this. She was overwhelmed by the support…until it became clear, it was not for her.

“Why would you do such a thing?” George looked at her in disbelief.

The world stopped.

“Excuse me?” her voice sounded tiny to her own ears.

“You made a false statement against a good man. Why the hell would you do that, Elinor?” George asked angrily.

She was suddenly finding it very hard to breathe the air – as if the viscosity of it had rapidly increased and her lungs could no longer handle the work required to move it through her respiratory system. She gasped.

“George! I – I made a statement to HR. He – Tassi – he tried to touch me!”

George just shook his head.

“I spoke with both Martin Tassi _and_ Linda Smith from HR this morning. I have signed affidavits from both stating that you threatened Martin with a sexual harassment lawsuit if he didn’t tell me, he was not able to meet the job requirements of his new position.” George glared at her, “Martin went to Linda in HR immediately and made a statement.”

Elinor felt a single tear slide down her check.

“George, No.” she said softly.

“Elinor, I don’t know what to say.” His voice was flat, devoid of feeling.

The knock on the door, made her jump then. George got up to open it for the two security guards.

“Elinor, these gentlemen will escort you to your desk and watch you collect your personnel things. You will surrender your badge at the front desk, upon your exit of the building.”

She didn’t remember walking to her desk. She didn’t remember picking up her potted spider plant – the only personnel item she had in the office, other than her purse. She didn’t remember giving the security guard her access badge and listening to him as he explained what the punishment was for entry into the building without authorization. She didn’t remember walking to the train, or the bus, or to her front door.

She did remember finding herself curled up on the floor of her foyer, sobbing uncontrollably, her whole body shaking, as if the grief could not be contained within her own body.

 

Half a million kilometers away, two sentinel droids bore the brunt of Grand Admiral Thrawn’s rage.


	7. Home

Elinor Savona did not waste time. The next day she grabbed her Rolodex and started making calls. She had plenty of contacts in the industry and one hell of a reputation for being extremely good at what she did. She’d find another job. It probably wouldn’t be her dream come true like TES but….

She was three quarters of the way through her stack of business cards when her doorbell rang.

It was Fink, Rick, Tate and Mark.

“You look like shit, Savona!” quipped Rick.

“Good to see you too,” Elinor retorted, then muttered under her breath, “Asshole.”

All four laughed. They had brought her lemon pepper wings.

After the usual conversations about Fink’s taste in men (he asked Mr. Electrical Systems Engineering out!) Rick’s fondness for loose women and the new shoot-em’-up movie in the theater, the talk turned somber.

Martin Tassi had expressed an immediate interest in adding structural designers, civil engineers and drafters to his new little fiefdom. Tate had started to cross train into the group a year ago but, by the look of things now, he would be going back to work more on structural damage risk assessments. Rick joked that he was trying to turn the Mechanical Aerospace and Nuclear Engineering (MANE) Department into the MANS Engineering Department by adding the Structural element to the title which prompted a long silence from Ellie’s former coworkers.

“They didn’t tell us anything about what happened.” Tate said quietly looking over at her.

“I didn’t think they’d announce it to the world.” She shrugged.

“Tassi’s an asshole.” Rick growled lowly.

“There’s more, though.” Fink said sadly.

“What?” Ellie’s brow furrowed.

“Don’t trouble the poor thing with the rumors!” Mark interjected.

“Oh, for Christ sakes Mark, she deserves to know.” Rick barked angrily.

“Know what?” Ellie was shaking her head impatiently.

Fink sighed. “Tassi put a professional hit out on you. He’s having you blackballed from the industry. No one is going to want to hire you after the trash he’s spilled. He’s broadcasted that you play the “gender card” and you were fired for harassment.”

And there it was.

Dr. Elinor Savona was no longer a viable candidate for any position in any engineering firm within Uptown or in the surrounding area. Martin Tassi had made sure she couldn’t get a position anywhere other than Starbucks. All for what?

_Maybe, just maybe, Elinor, you should have let him…? No!_

“Uh, I suddenly don’t feel well. Could you guys maybe….”

“Yes yes, of course Ellie. Listen, you need anything you give one of us a call…No no, I mean it! You have our numbers!” Mark patted her hand.

After they left, Elinor looked at her stack of business cards.

_Blackballed._

That’s why no one was calling her back. How could Tassi have so much influence? She picked up her phone and hit the only number on speed dial.

“Hey! Drew? Can I come for a visit?”

 

The glowing red eyes narrowed as he scanned the report again. Commander Axon had learned quite a bit about Elinor Savona, but obtaining her health information seemed…too personal – like he was looking at something only she should know about. Well, he and, now the Grand Admiral.

“When was she diagnosed?”

“When she was 24, shortly after obtaining her Ph.D., and very soon before her father died.” Axon swallowed.

“Did you provide the Chief Medical Officer with a copy of this?” Thrawn gestured to the report.

“No sir.”

“I would like to understand more about her condition.”

“I can request CMO Yermentic take a look at it, sir?” Axon offered.

“No, I’ll speak with the CMO directly.”

“Understood, sir.”

“Thank you, Commander. Dismissed.”

“Yes, sir.” Axon breathed a sigh of relief. Perhaps he should have done some more investigating, but he didn’t feel qualified – it was Yermentic’s problem now.

Axon’s com beeped taking him away from his thoughts. He was needed in the war room. Apparently, Elinor Savona was going on a trip and Pyrondi needed a command officer to relieve her while the techs adjusted the CTs.

He pitied the woman for all that she had been through, but her leaving the city could be fortuitous for Cran and his team – her extraction would be much easier if she were alone - out in the middle of nowhere.

 

The bus dropped her off at the end of the paved road. It was a good 3 mile walk to get to the dirt road, then another 2 miles from there. Andrew refused to let her walk, especially with her suitcase. She had argued of course, because that’s what siblings do, but in the end the big black pickup was sitting waiting for her.

She smiled as he got out. She hadn’t seen him in a few months, but she swore he wore the same boots, jeans, t-shirt and hat he wore the last time she saw him. He smirked at her.

“Ellie Bean!”

“Oh no, you don’t get to call me that! I have a bachelors degree in physics, and nuclear engineering, a masters degree in aerospace engineering and a Ph.D. in mechanical engineering!” She stood defiantly in front of him.

Drew snorted. “Like I care ‘bout all that! I shovel cow shit fer a livin’! Gimme a hug!”

She nestled into him. She may have all those pieces of paper – which right now were worthless – but when she was with her older brother, she was back to being a little girl.

They drove in comfortable silence until they got to the farm. Andrew carried her suitcase in for her as she stepped onto the front porch. A flood of memories – mostly good, propelled her through the screen door.

“I put in new carpet.” Drew said over his shoulder as he put her suitcase down near the couch.

“Oh, I’ll take off my shoes!”

He shook his head. “Don’t bother, I never do. Can’t get used to it.”

Ellie looked down at the floor and paused. She was ready to tell him that their parents would approve of the color when he shrugged.

“Whelp, hope ya like frozen pizza, ‘cause I can’t cook fer shit.”

She smiled sweetly. “Can you at least _try_ to cook it, first?”

“Smart ass! Is that what they taught ya when ya got all those fancy degrees? How t’ be a smart ass?”

“They didn’t want me being a dumb ass, like you!” She made her way to the kitchen to get the oven pre-heated.

“Ya just watch yer self, you’re gunna find yourself thrown in the creek behind the barn.”

Elinor just laughed.

 

After they cleaned up from the pizza, which Ellie hypothesized tasted exactly like the box it was packaged in, she walked out behind the barn while Drew did some mowing. She lay one of the old horse blankets down on the freshly mowed grass, sat down and stretched her legs out. Coming home was like having a cold glass of water on a hot day.

The problem was once you drank it all up, you had no more left and it was still hot outside. That was her life. Home was the water. She only had a little of it. And the world was hotter than fire.

It was dusk as she lay back on the blanket. She would do this all the time as a child. There were nights she would sit on her blanket gaze up at the stars and do calculus in her head, she would dream in riddles, prose and poems, songs, mathematical equations.

She would see things in her dreams, she wasn’t supposed to see. Futures. Always in riddles, it seemed. The world shifted around her. She never understood, Elinor was just a child – so immature – not ready to take on the burden of such an intellect. It must be the stress of it all. That was the reason for the riddles.

She sighed.

She looked up at the sky. Dusk had turned into night. She wasn’t “normal”. But she wanted to be.

Oh, so badly.

Maybe her losing her job at TES was another riddle? Maybe this was her opportunity to become “normal.” Could she have friends? A husband? ….Children? Like a _normal_ person. She wanted those things…didn’t she?

Suddenly the cold water of home was gone, and the heat of the world rose up into her throat. She turned her face away from the stars, so they wouldn’t see her cry… but an Imperial CT10 cam could.

 

“Hey Ellie? Elinor!? Where are ya?” Drew called.

Ellie woke with a start. She must have dozed off. Hurriedly she grabbed her blanket and called out to her brother “Coming!”

She flopped in her sandals toward the front porch, lugging her blanket with her as Drew smirked.

“Ah, havin’ yer cry?”

Ellie scrunched up her face. “What? I wasn’t crying!”

“Bullshit. I’m not a shrink, I’m yer brother. Ya can tell if ya want, but ya always come home when somethin’ ain’t sittin’ well.”

Her face fell. Was she that transparent? As if he heard the question, he shrugged. “Ye always been a shitty liar, Elle.”

“Thanks.” She said dryly.

The radio was playing, as usual.

The Savona’s could never afford cable TV and the reception was terrible. Drew would pray for rain on Tuesday to watch MacGyver and cross his fingers for clear skies on Thursdays in the hopes of seeing a fuzzy outline of Knight Rider if he leaned out the window with rabbit ears. The had a beat-up Zenith VCR with one tape – a video on Motown in the 70’s.

Ellie grow up listening to everything though, from the big band era and Duke Ellington to AC/DC. Her father taught her and her brother to swing dance to some of the better known 50’s tunes and some of her fondest memories were of watching her parents dance in the front yard to Danny & the Juniors, Dion, and the Beach Boys.

She sat down on the front porch step, much like they used to do when they were children. He sat down next to her, got out his whittling tool and a small piece of wood and started to carve.

She told him. All of it.

She looked over at him briefly through her lashes, sticky from all the tears, when she told him about Tassi trying to grab her. The carving tool slipped in his hand and his jaw tightened, but he remained silent and staring off into the distance as she continued her story. When she finished, and she sat emotionally drained, he finally looked over at her.

“I’m not gunna waste yer time and insult yer intelligence by tellin’ ya what I’d like t’ do ta this Tassi guy, but I will say this,” he paused to brush away some wood shavings “A wise woman tol’ me once, if ya got too much shit goin’ on, ya gotta simplify yer equation.”

Elinor laughed despite the gravity of it all.

“I was talking about variables, Drew. You have to solve for some _variables_ to simplify a _set_ of equations.”

He scrunched up his face and shrugged his shoulders, “Gimme a break, I just called ya a “wise woman” and I got the part ‘bout the equation right. Didn’t I?”

She laughed again.

He bumped her shoulder with his playfully. “Ya need t’ laugh a little more, Elle, it’s good fer yer soul.”

“Yeah.”

There was a pause.

“How’s yer health?”

Elinor sighed internally. She was waiting for this question and since she was his only remaining family, he had a right to ask.

“Fine.” She said.

“No auras? No seizures?” He glanced at her.

“None. My last EEG was normal. The medicine controls it.” She said quietly.

“Yer obviously not drivin’.” Drew observed.

“No. Afraid to.”

“Understand.” This was his way of telling her he was done poking at this particular subject.

She sighed. They sat for a long time leaning against each other.

“What should I do Drew?”

“Listen. Ya got more degrees than Cotter’s got pills. Ya can do any damn thing ya want. Yer probably the smartest person on the planet. Only thing I’m qualified t’ do is shovel shit outta cockoo clocks. Like ya said, solve fer yer damn variables… get yer equation or whatever the hell it is, and all that…stuff. The rest is just horseshit.”

Elinor looked over at him and smiled, “I think I’ll do just that.”

“Damn right. Who the hell needs Dr. Phil anyways?”


	8. Simplifying Her Equation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This next chapter has some um, strong language (?)  
> If you don't mind curse words or a brief history lesson on their origin please proceed (with an open mind)
> 
> In this chapter:  
> Elinor has a dream...normally she doesn't when she's not so forgetful  
> There's a problem with Christmas but it doesn't seem like Thrawn minds  
> She's a runner and a fighter and Tassi ends up with more than just "egg on his face"  
> Dr. Savona has some visitors...

When she arrived back at her townhouse, she found a message on her answering machine. Hoping against hope it might be one of the smaller firms calling her regarding an open position, she excitedly dropped her suitcase at the door and ran to the machine.

It was just Fink.

“Hey girlfriend. Just wanted to remind you that MANE is getting together this weekend for the charity Fun Run at Toobin Park -next door to you. You’re of course invited. You’ll always be one of us, girl. That dick Tassi can shove it up his ass. Oh, by the way, he won’t be there, _apparently_ , he and Linda-The-Skank-Smith are sleeping together. Oh, speaking of sleeping together, Mr. Electrical Systems and I are now a thaaang!!! His name is Allen and you get to meet him this weekend, iiiif you come to the Fun Run Charity event. This weekend! Ok? Ok! Hope you’re doing ok! Hugs! Love you! Bye!”

Elinor’s shoulders slumped in defeat. Martin Tassi was seemingly very swift and thorough with his professional hit jobs.

 

“Doctor Yermentic, please sit,”

“Thank you, sir,” Yermentic was a human woman, well into her fifties. She was assigned to the Chimaera shortly after Thrawn was given command of the ship. Without preamble, she handed her data chip to the Grand Admiral.

“My research, on her condition, Admiral.”

“Thank you.”

“Epilepsy is not common in our part of the galaxy. It’s prevented in utero via prenatal care. However, it would appear, from the brain scans Commander Axon provided me, that Elinor Savona suffers from a form that causes her to lose consciousness, very briefly. This loss of consciousness is due to an electrical disturbance in her brain – called a seizure.” Yermentic explained.

“Is she aware of her surroundings during this?” the Chiss steepled the tips of this fingers together.

“According to her physician’s notes, no, she is not.”

Thrawn seemed to consider this.

“Is this condition, life threatening?”

“Not really. She is cautious. She doesn’t use a personal vehicle. She takes medication to control the electrical stimuli and there are far more severe forms of the disorder which she does not appear to show any sign of. It could be dangerous, though. She could suffer a fall or if she were to seize while operating one of their motorized vehicles, she could cause harm to herself or others.”

“Excellent work, Doctor. Thank you.”

Yermentic smiled. “You are most welcome, Grand Admiral.” She paused. “And now as a ship’s physician I must ask: How are _you_?”

Thrawn smiled thinly. “I am well, doctor.”

Yermentic eyed him critically. “Hm. You are aware I have the authority to declare you unfit for duty if you become _unwell_ , sir?”

Thrawn’s smile tightened. “Indeed.”

“That is incentive to stay well. Is that not true, sir?” Yermentic persisted.

This time Thrawn chuckled. “It is indeed.”

Yermentic smiled again and stood. “Very well, I won’t beat a dead womp rat. Do you require further information on this case?”

“No Doctor. Thank you.”

“Of course.” Yermentic turned to leave but paused, briefly turning back to face the Chiss. “Grand Admiral?”

“Yes?”

“Why’s there such interest in Elinor Savona?”

“I am working to solve that puzzle, Doctor. I believe you have just provided me with a valuable piece.”

 

Elinor Savona sat bolt upright.

It was a dream. Wasn’t it?

It was so real, so _very_ real.

She could still see those eyes gazing down at her. She hadn’t been afraid in the dream though. It was upon waking and finding herself in her darkened bedroom that Ellie suddenly became frightened.

She ran her hands through her short hair – it was starting to get a little bushy and needed a trim.

When she was young her mother had loved to braid her hair, it had been long and thick with red highlights from days spent in the sun. It was course and heavy and she found it to be a nuisance when she entered graduate school. It was also quite uncomfortable having EEGs every six months when you had long hair. She wore it, pixie styled, feminine but easily styled and maintained.

When she first had it cut short her father and brother had joked that no one would mistake her for a man with her “boobs and ass”. If she were being honest, she hadn’t even thought about it; her mind was more on convenience than fashion and gender stereotypes.

Ellie glanced at the clock. 5:30 AM.

With no place to be. No office to go to. No work to do.

Nothing.

She felt a wave of sadness wash over her.

She grabbed her glasses, wandered downstairs and opened her refrigerator. She had never developed a taste for coffee. Her caffeinated drink of choice upon entering college became Diet Cola. Unfortunately, she made the mistake of trying a Red Bull the night before her Ph.D. candidacy exam. Ellie didn’t sleep for two and a half days afterward and supposedly, according to her advisor, spoke so quickly during her presentation, that the committee thought she had taken something illicit.

Opting for the noncaffeinated choice, Elinor grabbed the milk, and a muffin from the pantry. She glanced at her pill case and noted that with the disruption in her schedule, she had missed the last two days of medicine.

She frowned. The dream….

_You better not forget your pills again, Elinor!_

Pushing the thoughts of the dream aside she sat at the kitchen table to eat and read her tablet. After a few chapters – from a new book on ethics in the sciences - she cleaned up from breakfast, ran upstairs and got dressed for her run in the park.

The treadmill she had in the spare room was all well and good on rainy days and those days when she just didn’t want to deal with the sight of humanity, but there was no substitute for being outside. She took a deep breath and stepped off her front porch -toward her park.

 

The Chimaera needed supplies and her crew was starting to go a bit space crazy. After all, Pyrondi thought glumly, there was only so much of the Kardashians one could take.

The Grand Admiral had agreed to allow groups of 200 individuals to go down to the surface for two planetary days at a time. Each time the troop transport, would travel to and from the poles, unbeknownst to the planet’s inhabitants, and then circle back out to the dark side of the solitary moon where the Chimaera hovered in low power operation.

Every technician on the ship was working to stitch together, what once was, the pride of the Imperial Navy, but there wasn’t much else they could do without new material and _a lot_ of guidance. Each transport that came back from shore leave also had supplies, mostly food stuffs but there were also bits of technology that Engineering had requested – something called an iPad - like their datapads and of course entertainment for a very bored crew. The ping-pong table seemed to be a big hit within the stormtrooper ranks.

Commander Axon had gone down to coordinate the procurement of supplies. Pyrondi guessed this was his preference based on the bounce in his step, as he boarded the transport. She hadn’t been down to Earth yet but she was very much looking forward to it.

She was on her way to the war room when her com chirped at her.

“Pyrondi,” Her response was crisp.

“Lieutenant,” said the smooth familiar voice. “Might you be near the war room?”

“I’m almost there, sir.”

“Ah, Excellent. Your assistance is needed with one of the CT10s in Dr. Savona’s bedroom.”

Was it her imagination or did the Grand Admiral sound smug?

“I’ll be right there, sir!”

 

When she entered the war room the Grand Admiral was standing over Commander Klary who was sitting at the communication’s console. Pyrondi rushed over and made eye contact with Klary who nodded at her.

“Which one is it?” Pyrondi asked

“It’s Christmas. It stopped picking up our signal.” Klary said

“Have you made contact with Major Cran? Maybe he could boost the signal?” Pyrondi offered.

“He’s tried. Walmart seems to be picking up the boost, but nothing is getting to Christmas.”

Pyrondi grimaced. Suddenly Elinor Savona came into view on the large overhead holo. It looked like she had just finished her run in the park. She absently entered her bedroom sat at the edge of her bed and took her brightly colored shoes off.

_Uh oh._

“Lieutenant, as this particular CT10 is not responding to our commands, I would advise shutting it down. We will send Major Cran to retrieve it at a later time.” The Admiral eyed the data output from the CT unit.

“Uh, sir. We can’t shut it down.” Pyrondi felt her face start to turn red.

“Excuse me?”

“We made them tamper proof, sir. We didn’t want anyone to hack into the signals.” She cringed.

“I see.”

_And you’re about to see a lot more if we don’t get that kriffing CT10 to work_ , Pyrondi thought to herself.

Thrawn sighed. “Very well, shut the entire feed down.”

Klary turned to the Chiss with panic in her eyes. “Sir! If we do, we could lose all the signals and may not be able to re-establish the connections!”

Thrawn’s brow furrowed. Pyrondi glanced up in time to see Elinor pull her sleeveless shirt over her head.

“Uh sir?” one of the techs said, motioning to the holo.

Thrawn looked up and sighed again. “I believe we can afford Dr. Savona some privacy.”

Everyone stood with eyes diverted heading dutifully toward the exit as Elinor shimmied out of her pants. The Grand Admiral was the last to leave the room and as she turned on the shower, he looked over his shoulder and allowed himself a small, sly smile.

 

Fink had tormented her with phone call after phone call until she agreed to come to the Fun Run Charity Event. However, when she arrived at her park, form in hand, ready to race, he rushed over to her looking horrified.

“Elinor! I am so so so sorry! I had no idea! I swear to God!” he babbled.

“Fink, what?!” she frowned worriedly – it was upsetting that he was obviously so distraught.

The voice sent a shock wave up her back, made her stomach lurch and her jaw clench. The physiological response was jarring and made her eyes twitch like an aura.

“Hello, Elinor.” Martin Tassi said from behind her.

 

Sitting on the park bench watching from afar, Major Thae Cran swore viciously. What the kriff was the son of a space slug doing here!? His com wanted to know the answer to.

“Cran.” He growled.

“Major,” the Admiral’s voice was icy. “Is your team in position?”

Thrawn was probably just as unhappy to see Tassi as he was.

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. And Major?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Use force if necessary.”

“Yes, sir!” Cran allowed more enthusiasm into his voice than was probably necessary and professional, but Tassi was slime. He was looking forward to beating the stars out of the man.

 

“Hello Mr. Tassi.” She turned around with all the poise she could muster.

He leered at her as he made a show of stretching his calves. He was running in the race?

“Please, call me Martin.”

Fink inched closer to her protectively as she felt her eyes start to water.

“Hey, Martin! You gunna talk or you gunna line up?” Rick’s voice carried through the still air.

Tassi brushed by her with a smirk and she felt the world close in around her. Fink was talking animatedly to her; Mark and Tate had joined him.

“You don’t have to do this Elinor!” Mark said.

She blinked. Slowly she looked over at Martin Tassi as he started warming up. He caught her eyes and smirked at her, jutting his chin toward her and puckering his lips suggestively. Suddenly, all she felt was rage. Cold. Hard. Rage. In the pit of her stomach. It burned like fire.

“No.” she said simply, “I’m not running away from him. I’m leaving him behind me.”

Fink, Mark and Tate all looked at each other in dismay as she strode to the line.

 

The room was packed with command officers, techs and crewman that had all been a part of what was called the “War Room Retreat.” Even the Jedi, Ezra Bridger, who had become somewhat of a recluse, was there watching.

All those who were not technically on duty positioned themselves behind the Grand Admiral who, as usual, stood in the front and center of the room facing the holo displays. There were five CTs with a sixth enroute from her home, giving the team ample viewpoints of the showdown about to unfold.

 

Rick looked at her solemnly.

“You alright?”

“Yes.” She nodded firmly.

He leaned in closer to her, “You know I can spike his coffee with Imodium, right?”

“There’s no need for that, Rick. I’m going to make him feel like shit after this.”

He stared down at her blankly for a few seconds as she adjusted the elastic band around the back of her head holding her glasses in place.

“Thata girl.” He winked at her before grabbing his megaphone.

“Ok! Everyone! On the line. Remember this is for charity, so play nice with the other kids!” He looked pointedly at Tassi who had made his way to the line and stood next to Ellie.

She could feel Tassi looking at her. She did her best to ignore it, trying instead to focus on the anger she felt earlier and how that would push her forward. He moved to the other side of her and brushed up against her. Elinor shivered.

“I bet you think about me.” He purred in her ear.

She clenched her jaw and felt the heat in her face.

“ON YOUR MARK!” Rick’s voice boomed.

“I bet you think about me at night, while you’re in bed.” He grinned.

“GET SET!”

Rage. She squinted against the burning fire of it behind her eyes.

“The things we could have done in my office. Hmmm?”

“GO!!!!!!!”

 

The entire line of runners had jumped forward like a pack of frightened animals, but unlike frightened animals that would generally go in random directions to escape the onslaught of a predator, they all moved as one, except for Martin Tassi and Elinor Savona. Tassi had sprinted forward at the same time Elinor did, grabbing her upper arm and pulling her back as he pushed passed her. To her credit she stayed on her feet but stumbled slightly.

Cran was on the move, he had moved from the park bench and was starting to edge his way down to the footpath. If Tassi tried to harass Elinor somewhere along the footpath, the Major would make damn sure he or Dizon or Rogyn were there to intercept.

Before he had a chance to look at the CT10 feeds to check her progress, his com beeped.

“Cran.” He answered absently as he started surveying the CTs. And just as Rogyn started yammering at him in his outer-rim accent, he turned his com off and started to run toward the area where the footpath started to curve around toward the other side of the park.

Elinor Savona was going to be difficult, today.

 

He had gotten ahead of her at the starting line, with a tug on her arm and a laugh, he was ahead of her. And he was fast. It was only a 5K but still…his legs were longer, he was stronger, faster…

_But your smarter, Elinor!_

The footpath became narrower ahead, something she was familiar with after having run it so many times before. The path was carved through the park, bending and twisting making it a scenic route in the fall. The wooded area was wild but in those few months when there were no leaves on the trees, Elinor would look across to see the other side of the park – and the part of the footpath that curved back around.

She smiled to herself.

 

In the war room of the Chimaera, four of the six CT10s suddenly lost her. The techs controlling those four (Jello, Jerky, Honda and Baseball) started to panic.

“What just happened?” Pyrondi called over to one of the techs – Salisman.

Salisman was rapidly transmitting commands that would ultimately tell the CT’s tiny servos to decrease their RPM, change elevation, apply additional cooling to the drives, boost power to the lines and lock on to their target

“It’s not a signal issue ma’am. Her change in direction was so sudden and these four CTs are so close, we didn’t have time to update the pre-established track.” Salisman explained.

Pyrondi looked up at the holo image. How in blazes did she end up running through dense vegetation?

Someone from behind her asked the exact same question.

“What is she _doing_!?”

There was a collected murmur of confusion and concern.

Grand Admiral Thrawn answered softly, “She is simplifying her equation.”

 

Elinor ran.

She ran like her life depended on it.

She ran because she was angry and sad and frustrated.

Because she was a woman in a man’s world and no one – _no one_ – could understand that since she was all alone. Yes, she had Drew. And she loved him. Sure, she had Fink and Rick, Mark and Tate. And they made her smile. But no one really _knew_ her.

She stumbled over a downed tree, falling forward. Mechanically she launched herself off the ground and continued to run, dirt and blood oozing from both knees. Her palms were scraped, and her arms and legs were cut by branches and thorny vines, but she continued to run.

 

Cran unleashed a lengthy and descriptive string of expletives as he saw Martin Tassi run haughtily around the bend. He decided to seek council.

“Yes?” The Grand Admirals voice asked calmly.

“Admiral, Tassi is entering the other side of the park, sir. Shall I cause a disturbance, sir?”

“That will not be necessary, Major.” Thrawn sounded almost amused.

“Sir?”

Damn it. Elinor Savona was running like she had a pack of krayt dragons after her. The least he could do was trip the bastard.

“In good time Major. It would be preferable to have Tassi fallen from grace, first” Thrawn soothed.

“Yes, sir.”

 

Ellie had just reached the small ridge separating the tree line from the much wider footpath when she saw him rounding the bend.

He must have seen her too, because he put on a burst of speed. She burst forward with renewed energy as she jumped over the ridge on the footpath right in front of Martin Tassi. She spun on her heels and bolted. She heard him behind her, getting closer and closer, growling obscenities. Now, it was fear that pushed her forward.

“You think you’ll beat me to the line?” He huffed from behind her – almost right beside her.

Her answer was another burst of speed. Her whole body was wracked with emotion and she was almost blinded by confusion; she didn’t know what was driving her more – her fear or her rage.

 

The Chimaera lay silent, waiting. The crew in the war room watched. There had been the occasional gasp, when Elinor had fallen over the tree, and a small hiss of concern as she jumped from the ridge onto the foot path, but mostly it was very quiet.

The Chiss Grand Admiral simply scrutinized the scene.

And now it was a race between Savona and Tassi to the finish line. They were at pace with each other, but it was obvious Elinor was beginning to tire. Her trek through the park had left her worn and bloodied. Yet, she pressed on still staying just slightly ahead of her opponent.

Finally, the finish line was within sight and the two began to vie for finally positioning. Tassi tried unsuccessfully to grab her arm to pull her back. Several more times she evaded him, but at a cost. The sharp turn of her head to locate him in her peripheral vision caused her to lose some of her speed.

Thrawn heard the rumble of the men and women behind him and pondered their response.

There was an obvious affinity toward the woman; she was someone who was constantly trying to climb up while being held down. He wondered idly if there were parallels between this sentiment and that for those in the Rebellion. Perhaps, generically speaking, beings saw the Rebellion as an Elinor Savona blocked from her attempt at a quiet, useful life.

He focused on the second to last CT10 which was already waiting behind the finish line. Elinor’s face was fierce looking as Tassi made one last grab for the back of her shirt. With one final burst of speed and arms outstretched she crossed the line one quarter of a second before him. She raised her arms and half scream, half sobbed in relief.

The Chimaera’s war room erupted in cheers and applause, backslapping and handshaking.

Thrawn smiled tightly.

In a darkened corner of the room, Ezra Bridger sat, still as stone with a concerned frown etched on his face, making him seem so much older than what he really was.

 

Only a second after crossing the finish line, as Elinor gasped for breath, Martin Tassi came charging toward her.

“You cheating whore!” He roared.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Rick run to intercept him. Fink, who had been on the sideline cheering wildly with pom-poms in hand, tried to pull her away.

“Whoa! Martin, hold up there.” Cautioned Rick.

Tassi ran into the other man’s chest as he snarled and cursed at her. Again, the anger bubbled up within her.

“Does that make you feel like a real man?” Elinor pushed forward, sandwiching Rick in between her and Tassi. She stood to her full height and glared up at him in defiance.

Tassi merely, laughed, looked down at his shoes in mock pensiveness and lunged at her again. This time Rick wasn’t fast enough

Elinor saw everything in slow motion. Tassi’s face as he advanced on her, Mark and Tate running toward them, Fink’s mouth open in a horrified O. She did the only thing she could think of – something Draw told her when she was a little girl… if she ever felt threatened by a stranger…

She balled her fists up and punched Martin Tassi in the nose.

The scene sped up again as pain shot through her hand and up her arm. She felt her face contort in surprise. Drew never taught her _how_ to punch someone in the nose. But as uncomfortable as it was for her, it was much worse for Tassi.

“You stupid bitch!” He screamed as blood gushed through his hands, holding his nose. “You’re going to fucking jail – I got you on assault! Everyone saw it!”

There was stillness around him. The other MANE engineers from TES who were running the race had finished and were standing by watching. Mark looked over at Ellie and strode over to Tassi, handing him a towel.

“That must have been one hell of a fall, huh?”

“What are you talking about? That bitch hit me! You all saw it just happened” He jabbed a finger at Elinor.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Martin.” Mark said blandly.

“I didn’t see anything” Rick shook his head.

The other men murmured and bobbed their heads in agreement.

Tassi stopped. He turned to look for someone to acknowledge his plight in the small crowd of people gathered around him but there was no one. Every one of them met his eye and shook their head at him.

As if they knew what he was. Elinor felt her throat tighten from the show of solidarity.

“What the fuck are you guys doing?” He demanded.

“You’ve been under a lot of stress lately, Martin. You should go home and rest.” One of the others said – Barney - from the aeronautical systems engineering side of the department – Ellie knew that he, Mark and Tate would go out for drinks on Fridays.

Tassi threw down the towel and stormed off but not before glaring at Elinor.

“I’ll see you again.” He threatened.

“Fuck you Tassi!” She snarled back at him.

Tassi spat at her and stormed away, toward the entrance to the park. She watched him go and felt her shoulders slump in exhausted relief. As if a switch was flipped, the small group surrounding her suddenly came alive, bombarding her with questions, there was praise, laughter and jokes.

“You look like you ran through the jungle!” Mark observed.

“Never mind that! Savona, where the hell did you learn to punch? Charm school?” This from Rick.

Fink was jumping up and down excitedly, “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god! You total said “fuck”! That is like the first time _ever_ I’ve heard you say the word. I didn’t even know you knew it!”

Despite the pain in her hand, and her sore knees, Ellie grinned. “I know it _and_ what it means.”

 

After Fink introduced her to Allen – Mr. Electrical Systems Engineering – their small group agreed to meet up for pizza at lunchtime. Ellie walked, or rather, hobbled home. She took a longer than her usual shower, having to work hard to scrub some of the dried mud from her arms and legs.

The heat was a comfort to her sore muscles that had already started to clench after so much exertion. She dressed quickly in skinny jeans and a white blouse with a blue and gold floral pattern. She hopped down the stairs grabbed her purse and headed out to the brew pub where she would meet her former co-workers.

Walking in sandals felt odd after so much focus on running earlier in the day, she nearly tripped over her own feet several times on her way. She was approaching the corner of Huntington Street when she felt it.

Someone was watching her.

Elinor increased her pace and swiftly turned the corner as her mind flashed to Tassi’s last words to her in the park.

_I’ll see you again_

Her heart hammered. Surely, he wouldn’t try to accost her in broad daylight?

 

Rogyn had followed Tassi after his confrontation with Elinor in the park to ensure he stayed well away from her; he went to his usual haunt – a bar in the warehouse district south of Uptown.

That left Cran and Dizon to monitor her movements and start placing the final additions on the extraction plan. Thus far, the Grand Admiral seemed to approve of it, but it would require some additional resources not currently planet side. It also required tying up loose ends, like Tassi.

Cran sighed contentedly. Sometimes there actually was some justice in the galaxy.

 

They were laughing so hard, it was impossible not to laugh with them, Elinor thought. She had requested a Diet Coke as they waited for the appetizers to roll out. Allen was regaling them with how Fink tried to coyly ask him out while pretending to need new toner for the copy machine. Ellie appreciated the play on words and dry humor which was refreshingly different from Rick’s blatantly crude jokes. Of course, all humor genres were in vogue today…

“So, Rick did you ever tell Ellie about your tattoos?” Mark quipped

Elinor pursed her thin lips and pushed her glasses further up her nose. “I don’t think I need to kn-“

“Ohhhhh! I can’t believe I never told you!” Rick grinned evilly.

She just gave up and rolled her eyes.

Apparently while Rick was in graduate school he and his Asian roommate got into a heated argument, in which one accused the other of “not being able to find he ass with both hands and a flash light” to which the response was to “go shove [said] flashlight up” his ass. A bet was made, alcohol was consumed, and Rick woke up the next morning with Maxwell’s equations tattooed to his right buttock.

“What happened to your roommate?” Tate giggled.

“Little bastard, didn’t say a fucking word!” Rick growled.

Mark shook his head while laughing. “I don’t believe it!”

“Well now friend, let me show you!” Rick laughed and made to stand up and undo his pants.

Fink kicked at him from underneath the table to another round of good-natured laughter. Even Elinor was chuckling. “ _Speaking_ , of things I don’t believe,” Fink turned to her “I’m still awestruck over you girl!”

She looked blankly at him as she nibbled on a breadstick. “What?”

“What, she asks? ‘Fuck you Tassi’? Them are some strong words girl!” Fink cocked his head and looked at her expectantly, “Where does a good girl like you hear such foul language?”

They were all smirking at her.

“Well technically speaking the word has existed for a while. Fornication under consent of the king was a legal requirement in 15th century Europe. You actually needed to get a “fuck” to have sex.” Ellie felt her face reddening – shouldn’t they know this?

“Seriously? The one time we get her to say a dirty word, she gives us a history lesson?” Rick pouted.

“Oh sweetie…” Fink just sighed in exasperated wretchedness.

Tate taped Rick on the shoulder and pointed to the waiter bringing the 24-inch deep dish, “Fuck it! Pizza’s here!”

 

Fink, Allen and Rick had walked her home. Ellie had the impression Fink was worried about her, despite her attempts to reassure him she was fine, he insisted on helping her put ice on her hand. She had a bag of frozen peas in the freezer for the purpose of sore limbs and muscles and, as he helped her place a towel on the bag, he asked how her search for a new job was going.

“It’s not going well. Martin has some pull in the industry apparently.”

“You could go back to school?” Allen offered.

“All I ever wanted to be was an engineer. I would have to move out of state at this rate to find work.”

Rick just shook his head in frustration, “He’s such a douche bag. I don’t even know why he’s taking on so many structural design projects – we just don’t have the resources – he’s setting TES up for failure.”

Ellie’s brow furrowed, “What did he do before he came to TES?”

“He was in construction upstate, supposedly,” Fink waved his hands, “but I swear someone told me he worked for GRF Consolidations Group.”

“I don’t know what that is.” Ellie murmured.

“It’s basically a company that buys other companies.”

Elinor’s eyes narrowed.

“Yeah, that was my thought too.” Fink mimicked her expression.

“Well ladies, and Elinor, I have a date tonight, so I should probably get going.” Rick spoke conspiratorially.

“Regards to Bertha the blow-up doll.” Fink gave him the thumbs up.

 

After they left, Ellie repositioned her hand on the bag of peas, leaned back in her armchair and felt the weight of the day start to fall from her shoulders.

It had felt good.

She felt childish in acknowledging it – like she had won a game of kick ball on the playground. But it had felt good to outsmart and outrun Martin Tassi. He may have been bigger, stronger, faster and he may have tried to intimidate her with fear and anger, and – yes – she was afraid and – yes – she did get very angry, but she walked away with more dignity than when she started.

Overall, a good day…. and then her doorbell rang.

She hopped up, taking the bag of peas with her. It was most likely Fink – he probably forgot to tell her something or left something behind. She opened the door and –

The first word to enter her mind was historically vulgar.

_Fuck!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi – another confession. I’ve never posted anything before – I’ve never really written anything non-school or work related. I don’t know what I’m doing (obviously)
> 
> Also note: I’m the self-deprecating sort – it keeps me humble and if you can’t laugh at yourself no one else will. I like to make people laugh…ok maybe it is a selfish thing (sorry)
> 
> Some thoughts on Lt. Pyrondi:  
> I know she’s a weapons officer on the Chimaera, but in this case the ship doesn’t really have or need a big honkin’ gun (yet – foreshadowing?). Also, she seemed kind of timid to me at first. She’s served with Thrawn for some time, but the Grand Admiral strikes me as someone who would want to elevate his people and try to build up her confidence. That’s the Pyrondi I wrote. I don’t know her first name, so I made one up. 
> 
> I did not include Lomar, Hammerly and Yve because I wanted to build my own hodge-podge of characters and limit the story line to just a select few, e.g. Pyrondi and some of the OCs (Cran and Dizon especially) turn into Masters-of-All-Trades because they’re so limited in who can do what. 
> 
> I’m posting chunks at a time – I started writing this in mid-November. Now I’m just proof reading (terible typest and spiller, right?)


	9. Extraction Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter:  
> Thrawn's confused by Elinor  
> Ellie gets a job offer.  
> She also gets an education about Channel 11 News...  
> and finds out just how bad Martin Tassi is.  
> Elinor ends up taking the job.

Thrawn had watched her. Studied her. He was certain he could predict her behavior, that is, until she punched Martin Tassi.

How could his assessment of her been so skewed that he would not have guess she’d try to physically strike back at her tormentor. Everything that he saw was that of a timid, quiet woman wanting solitude. The art in her home – all from local artists – was subdued landscape. She did not operate the personal vehicle she owned out of fear – it was stowed in her garage with layers of dust on it. She did not resist her termination of employment because of some perceived inadequacy on her part, despite the obvious injustice.

The war room had once again erupted in gasps and cheers and more than a few of the techs and com officers swore enthusiastically. Several eyes darted toward the Grand Admiral, half expecting a stern look in reprimand but the Chiss seemed indifferent to the celebration around him. Thrawn’s knowing smile had slipped, though, and he was studying the fierce expression on Elinor Savona’s face.

Ezra Bridger made his way through the jubilant crowd of Imperials to stand next to Thrawn.

“She’s ready.” He glanced over to see Thrawn’s thoughtful profile, “She can come to the Chimaera, now.”

Suddenly, Thrawn turned to the young Jedi, “I intend to extract her immediately.”

“Good.” Ezra’s face fell slightly but he shrugged his shoulders.

“I am so very glad the decision meets with your approval, Bridger.” Thrawn said icily as he stalked out of the war room and toward his office. On the way, he wistfully entertained the idea of depositing the troublesome youth out the nearest airlock, but that was likely to be an obstacle, as well. Thrawn was still sorting out the pieces – trying to simplify his equation, as Elinor would put it.

What was it about this woman? Why was Ezra Bridger adamant that it had to be her? There were certainly other, well qualified technical experts on Earth that could assist them in rebuilding the Chimaera. Why was the Jedi obsessed with _her_?

Why was he, himself obsessed with her?

It was a question, requiring further study.

 

Elinor remembered thinking the two men must have previously been in the military. Her father had been in the Army for eight years. The way they stood, shoulders back, arms placed at their sides (near weapons?), reminded her of guards constantly on the alert. Dad had called it “readiness,” and they had so much of it, Elinor’s first instinct was to turn and run.

“Ma’am” the older gentleman nodded to her, “Are you Dr. Elinor Savona?”

“I-I am.”

Again, painful regret for her inability to lie, seeped into her hands as they began to shake.

_Why couldn’t you just say you’re a house sitter?_

Because something told her, this man would be able to see that she was lying and that he already knew who she was…

“My name is Thae Cran, ma’am. I’m a professional recruitment manager.”

A _headhunter_!? Elinor began to relax a little.

Mr. Cran gestured to the gentlemen next to him, “This is Arton Dizon he works with - ah for a…a large group looking for technical assistance in a multitude of engineering fields.”

_A large group_ …?

“Oh…please come in.” Elinor motioned for them to enter.

 

It was a dream come true.

Her own state-of-the-art lab and work area. Any equipment she deemed necessary that was not already in place, would be procured for her. The starting salary was 3 times what she was making at TES! Health benefits were excellent, and they even offered a pension!

_Who are these people?_

When they finished presenting their proposal, she smiled shakily.

“Please don’t think, I’m not cognizant of the generosity of your offer, but I must ask…What’s the catch?”

Mr. Dizon smiled slightly.

“The project we are currently in need of assistance, is at a military installation.”

“Ah…it wouldn’t happen to be Fort –“

“It’s not local – it’s a naval installation.” Cran shook his head.

There was a pregnant pause.

She would have to leave everything. Leave Drew. Leave her home. Leave the people she had spent four years trying to let into her life.

“I uh – I’ll have to think about it.”

“Understandable.” Cran rumbled.

“How would I apply?”

“No application is necessary, Dr. Savona. If you want the job, it’s yours.” Dizon said quietly and he pushed his business card to her from across the kitchen table.

Elinor nodded slowly, “Thank you.” She whispered.

“Maybe you’d consider talking with one of our on-site specialists her name is Crissa Pyrondi and she’s a Senior Lieutenant in the Navy. She was once a weapons officer but recently has been more aligned with methods of long-distance mechanical correspondence and surveillance. She might offer some insight into what needs doing and how you can help.” Cran offered.

Elinor felt her mouth fall open. “As in, _drones_?”

Cran and Dizon looked at each other.

“Yes.”

There had been a whole sub-division at TES devoted to drone technology. It started out as a joke, but so does 20% of innovation, so says the witticism. The other 80% is pure necessity.

“I’ll have to think about it.” Elinor exhaled deeply.

 

As they left her townhouse, Cran’s com chirped.

“Yes?”

“Major.” It was Rogyn. “Some of Tassi’s friends are headed your way.”

“Bantha spit!” Cran swore, “Why am I just hearing about this now, Soldier?”

Rogyn sounded appropriately chastised and before he even explained himself, Cran knew the reason was because the stormtrooper did not want to interrupt the “interview” with Savona. Still…being taken unaware was not something Cran was used to, and he’d had his fair share of it recently.

“Never mind!” Cran snapped, “Which direction?”

“From the south.”

Cran flipped off his com. Great.

They were going to try to break into the townhouse from the back window in the room with her chair and her books, where she would sit trance like for hours reading – oblivious to the world around her. If she was already in there…he called up the CR10-XM images and hurriedly flipped through them until he found her. She was pacing her living room, talking on her own communication device – a phone, they called it – safe for now. He was about to order Dizon around the west side of the building when his com chirped again.

“WHAT?” he snarled.

“Major Cran.” The cool voice of the Grand Admiral was instantly deflating “Might I suggest you and Stormtroopers Dizon and Rogyn leave Dr. Savona’s residence immediately?”

“But sir!”

“The local authorities have been called, Major…by a good Samaritan named Martin Tassi. Shall we let others do the work for us?”

Cran grinned. Pyrondi worked wonders with the primitive communications network and Thrawn was a genius.

 

Elinor hadn’t known there was even an issue until Officer Doug-Somethin-or-Other from the 76th Precinct knocked on her door. There had been an attempted break-in by three men.

Had she seen anything out of the ordinary?... No.

Was there anything in her home missing? …No, not that she was aware of.

Any threats on her person recently? …Should she tell him about Tassi? …No. No, nothing Officer.

Good, if that changes….Of course, thank you Officer.

 

Her phone was ringing off the hook when she opened the front door after her daily run. Her legs still ached from Saturday’s race, but she took comfort in the smug satisfaction that swelled in her when she jogged passed the finish line area. She bolted for the receiver before the antiquated little answering machine could pick up the call.

“Hello?” she asked as she jabbed the pause button on the machine.

“Oh. My. God. Elinor! I have been soooo _worried_.” Fink admonished loudly upon hearing her.

“What? Why?”

“Girl! Get a TV!!!”

“Fink, What?” Elinor rolled her eyes in exasperation as she paced the living room. This was old territory.

“Martin Tassi, got his knees bashed in by the Russian mafia!”

Elinor jerked and stopped in her tracks.

“Wha-? ….”

“Don’t go anywhere! I’ll be right over!” before she could argue, he had already hung up.

She stood in the center of her living room just gapping at thin air.

 

The Channel 11 news had the whole story…they reported with integrity, so their viewers could get the truth – letting them stay informed. Apparently Channel 11 news lets you be informed…so you can stay…informed(?)… Silliness like this, was why Ellie hated watching TV to begin with.

If Channel 11 news wanted their viewers truly informed they would be reporting on the dangers of not vaccinating children, the impacts of socio-economic isolation on the homeless, global warming and how it shouldn’t be viewed as a cost/benefit analysis – it was about the survival of their species…the melodrama about the number of peanuts being used to make peanut butter was mind numbing.

Fink saw her agitation.

“Hold on, it’s coming up!” He said.

They were watching it via YouTube.

“This late breaking piece tonight, comes to us just outside of Uptown in the Four Grooves area. Three men were arrested last night near Lockard Lane…”

Elinor waved her hand dismissively, “Fink I already know about this. The police already – “

Fink shushed her.

“…they were to be charged with attempted robbery, however an earlier 911 call from a good Samaritan, changed all that. Robert Mills has more, live from the Wearhouse district, Robert?”

Elinor felt her face settle into an unfamiliar, confused frown.

“That’s right Jim, a good Samaritan identified as Martin Tassi, a department manager at Total Engineering Solutions, alerted authorities to three possible intruders. But when reached for comment, Mr. Tassi was not available. Channel 11 News did some investigating to keep you informed and determined through anonymously disclosed information, that Tassi, who was just recently hired at TES has had strong mob ties for several years.

Prior to working at TES, Tassi ran his own structural design engineering firm which would provide PE approved drawings and plans for new buildings – mostly low-rent apartments, much like the one behind me. These buildings were part of a contract by GRF Consolidations Group which has in the past had ties to famous local mobsters like Yuri Gornovek.

Channel 11 News once again, attempted to contact Mr. Tassi to hear his side of this story, but we were informed by Uptown’s finest that he has become a co-operating witness in an active investigation after having been taken to Mary’s Hospital early this morning.” Robert Mills concluded his initial report waiting for further questions from the news anchor.

“Robert, is it clear to Uptown PD that the local mob is involved in this – particularly Gornovek?”

“Uptown PD has been extremely closed mouthed about this investigation which is not unusual in cases such as these. Channel 11 will of course continue to search for the truth as the investigation continues.”

“Robert, any news as to why Mr. Tassi was taken to Mary’s Hospital?”

“We overheard it was a bicycle accident resulting in an injury to both his knees, Jim.”

The camera shot back to Jim who wore a faux-intrigued expression behind the makeup and lighting.

“Interesting. Thank you, Robert for the report. Robert Mills live from the Warehouse District for Channel 11 where we keep you informed! Next up, which local sports teams have won their fir-“

Fink turned his tablet off and grabbed both of Elinor’s hands, turning her to face him.

“Listen Elinor, all those structural engineers he was trying to pull into MANE – I think he was trying to use TES to help the mob.” Fink shook her as if doing so would help her internalize what she just saw.

“He was probably hoping to start mass producing shitty drawings and specs for apartments that wouldn’t pass code.” Fink continued, “The idea was that TES would sign off on the drawings, the mob could build the buildings cheap and ‘to the engineer’s specifications and drawings’ turn them around and make a profit off minimum wage working families. Those people could die in their beds because of a fire from a wiring issue or something that was in the PE approved design package. Innocent people die, TES gets the lawsuit, and the mob makes money.”

Elinor gawked at him.

“Do you understand?” He asked.

She nodded jerkily. She understood. Tassi was vicious.

“ _That’s_ why he wanted to get to you. Why he wanted to intimidate you because he saw _you_ as the biggest threat. He wanted to see if you’d bend to the game!” Fink shook her shoulders again

“And when I didn’t…he had me fired” Elinor finished for him, her voice quiet and hollow.

“Yeah.” Fink cringed, “I think after you had the nerve to kick his ass and punch him in the face, his Russian goon squad got nervous about you and decided they wanted to pay you a visit. Apparently, he got cold feet and called 911.”

_Those three men had been after her?_

Something didn’t seem right about Fink’s theory though – Tassi hated her – he wouldn’t want to save her by calling the authorities and incriminating himself. Even if he did call 911, why not do it anonymously? Why put himself at such risk over her -someone that he hated, especially when he was probably the one that suggested they come calling?

No, it seemed to Ellie that Martin Tassi had been set up. But why were those three men after her? Was it just Tassi wanting revenge? Was it the machismo of an organization like the Russian mob that they couldn’t stand a woman besting one of their own?

The insanity of it all must have shown on her face as horror, because Fink wrapped her in a hug.

“Oh honey! Don’t worry! Those guys are gone, and they probably don’t care about little ol’ you now. They’re more worried about what Tassi is telling the police and the FBI…hey I know, maybe you could go and talk to the authorities and tell them my theory!? You could find a hot FBI guy. A nice G-man for the E-girl? Hubba hubba!!” Fink teased.

“Benjamin, Please.” She blushed.

She changed the subject, quickly.

“So…um, I got a job offer.”

“Oh my god, honey! That’s great!!!” he gasped, “Where?”

“Um. Well, it’s at a military installation and – “

Her phone rang suddenly. She looked down but didn’t recognize the number.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Dr. Savona. This is Thae Cran we spoke a couple days ago regarding an opportunity at an engineering firm?”

Elinor smiled slightly.

_Like he was listening!_

“Yes, hello Mr. Cran.”

“I wanted to inform you that the opportunity is still available, but there are other parties showing interest in it.”

“Oh! Well, thank you for that information... I’m still considering it, but I must admit the prospect of leaving this area is quite daunting for me. Perhaps, it’s a good thing there’s other interest?”

There was a short awkward laugh. “My apologies ma’am, I haven’t been transparent. Mr. Dizon was extremely impressed with you and he is willing to work with you on any aspect of the offer. Short of moving the…military installation to your backyard, all is negotiable. We can even arrange travel to and from your home during off-days and holidays, if you desire it.”

Elinor’s eyes widened. Fink was standing by watching her pace and at this change in expression was hopping up and down in the agony of suspense. He mouthed questions at her with hand gestures and facial expressions communicating his usual level of nosiness multiplied by one hundred.

“Uh…” Elinor was struggling with the audio-visual distraction of Fink, the earlier news of Tassi and the magnitude of the choice that lay before her now. She swatted Fink away as she stammered her way through her response to Cran.

“I um…well…”

_Solve for the variables…Simplify your set of equations._

“Ok” she finally said in a tiny voice.

_Sigh._

“Excellent! Dr. Savona, I’m sure you’ll be very happy with us!”

“When would you like me to start.” Elinor smiled happily. She had a job! She could be useful! She could go back to doing what she loved – she could fix things!

“As soon as possible, but I do know the Admiral expects some time for orientation and becoming familiar with things.”

“The Admiral?”

There was a pregnant pause on the other end of the line.

“I’ll explain during your new employee orientation.”

 

It did not go as Major Cran had described in his plan, but in the end, the result would be the same. They would have her. She would be aboard the Chimaera in two days. Thrawn smiled softly at the thought. He would work on getting more answers, either from Ezra Bridger or from her directly.

It would be far more pleasant to get those answers from Elinor Savona.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello - We've entered into the phase of the story where my fascination in old Cold War spy novels has kicked in...kinda. 
> 
> As I said several times before 1) I'm new 2) I don't know what I'm doing 3) you're being extremely nice by reading this - thank you!
> 
> I'm sorta having fun though...is that normal?


	10. The Eyes Have It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In This Chapter:  
> Ellie gets a send off  
> Paperwork: it's normal.  
> Dramamine denied - Set your weapons to stun?  
> Never mind, Elinor's epilepsy causes problems  
> Thrawn's a dream come true and a puzzle piece falls into place.

She had said her good-byes to Fink, Allen, Rick, Mark and Tate, the night before. They brought her lemon pepper wings (again!) and a cake. Fink and Allen had made the cake, it was decorated with red and blue flowers and the gold frosting wished her “Bon Voyage!”. After all, as Fink said, she was in the Navy now.

Allen played “In the Navy” by the Village People and the guys tried to get her to dance but Rick just ended up picking her up putting her over his shoulder and spinning her around. The response to her vestibular system, the motion caused was just a prelude to her future state.

 

Mr. Cran picked her up at 8 the next morning and drove to the warehouse district. With him was a man by the name of Mr. Axon who oversaw procurement. If she needed anything for her new lab, she was to consult with him, and he would do his best to provide it for her. They were to meet with Mr. Dizon at 8:30 to discuss her contract and at 9AM she would meet with the Lieutenant, Cran mentioned.

Elinor felt a thrill of excitement rush through her. It was hard to believe that just three weeks ago she was still working at TES.

She had called Andrew to let him know, of course. He was happy for her. He was flabbergasted over her inability to punch, when she explained what had happened to Tassi.

“Ya mean t’ tell me, ya shredded yer self runnin’ through the woods an’ yer whinin’ ‘cause ya broke a nail on some guys nose?” He mocked her.

She had promised she would visit as soon as possible, once she got her arrangements figured out and was comfortable enough in her new position to leave for a weekend. He just grunted.

At 9 o’clock she met with Senior Lieutenant Crissa Pyrondi, who was quiet and thoughtful. Elinor thought she would get along well with her if they happened to work together but it remained unclear as to what the full extent of her work duties would be. Finally, Dizon provided her with the fine print.

“Dr. Savona, as you’re aware the work we currently do is for military applications, and as such, much is considered…very sensitive. There are several documents which require your review and signature, prior to our continuation.”

“Of course.” Ellie nodded.

 

In the end, it took an hour and a half to sign all the paperwork. It had to look “real”, Cran reminded himself. The bureaucratic process of onboarding and orientation was a necessary evil and was likely one Savona was painfully familiar with. If things went too fast and too easy, she may become suspicious before they could get to the final phase of extraction.

Once completed, the paper forms were stowed and the small group, Dizon, Pyrondi, Savona and himself piled into a larger vehicle – an SUV. Axon again assured the young woman that if she needed support, she would have it from “procurement engineering.”

Dizon drove out of the city toward their initial landing area in the mountains, while Pyrondi and Elinor talked quietly in the back.

“Dr. Savona, do you get air or sea sick?” Pyrondi asked her.

“Generally speaking I do not, but there are always exceptions.” She laughed nervously.

“The reason why I ask ma’am, is we will be taking a fast plane and it does have a tendency to be a bit…bumpy.”

Cran smiled tightly. The Grand Admiral had made it clear that Elinor Savona was not to be conscious upon arriving at the Chimaera. In fact, she was to be sound asleep before their “plane” ever left the ground. This was Pyrondi trying to make things simple…Cran did not want to have to order Dizon to stun the poor woman.

“I carry some…I think it’s called Dramamine, you are welcome to it, ma’am.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant, but for me personally I’ve always found Dramamine to be ineffectual.”

_Well Bantha spit_ …

“Oh…of course ma’am, but if you change your mind?”

“Thank you.”

“What do we do?” Dizon asked Cran through clenched teeth.

Cran grumbled something incoherent.

“Excuse me, Mr. Cran?” Elinor called from the back seat.

“Yes, Dr. Savona?”

“You mentioned an Admiral. Is he stationed at the base?”

Cran caught the flash of discomfort from Pyrondi in the little mirror on the window between the front seats. “Ah, yes.”

“Will I be able to meet him?”

Cran made a face as if he were considering it – hoping it didn’t look like he was eating something sour.

“Unlikely.”

 

They had arrived at the “fast plane” – it wasn’t like anything Ellie had ever seen before – a military plane, she decided - but it was designed so drastically different. She followed the Lieutenant inside, sat down in one of the multiple seats and buckled in. It looked as though several people were already in the cockpit and they didn’t waste time.

Once Dizon and Cran had taken their seats behind them, Ellie felt the tell-tale bounce in her stomach indicating an elevation change and then suddenly she was thrown back into her seat. There was no way a commercial jet engine could do that -it was so much more powerful. The maneuverability of the vehicle she was in, was also unlikely anything Ellie had ever experienced, the rapid changes in direction sent her trembling. Her eyes began to flutter as she felt the aura. She grabbed for her purse and fumbled with it until she found her pill case, but it was too late to take the emergency medicine.

 

She vaguely remembered hearing a loud horn – it sounded like a horn. Ellie tried opening her eyes, her glasses had slipped down to the end of her nose, so she absently tried to push them up. Her eyes were so heavy. She tried desperately to keep them open, but it was just not worth it…until she heard voices. She tried it again. Slowly opening the right and then the left, only to realize her damn glasses had slipped down to the end of her nose again. Her head was bent down looking at her lap and she was still strapped into her seat on the plane.

She flexed her fingers on both hands and once they seemed to respond when prompted, she unbuckled herself nearly falling to the floor. Ellie caught herself, pushed her glasses up a little and tilted her head back only to be met by a pair of red eyes.

They were stunning. She stared up at them and murmured in appreciation. The face was also striking, regal and blue. Why was this not strange to her? She mumbled the question.

_The dream._

She had missed a couple of doses of her medicine, been under a lot of stress, and hadn’t slept well, of course she would start having dreams again…

Still, the eyes were beautiful. She tried to smile reassuringly at them, when they looked slightly worried.

_No no, I’m alright._

She was trying to stand up. Suddenly there was a voice. Was it from the eyes? Elinor almost laughed - eyes with a voice, how comical!? But the voice was also very pleasing. Wait…hadn’t there been a face too – she remembered it being handsome and…blue?

“Dr. Savona, please sit down.”

He knew her. Of course, he did; the dream told her he would.

“Who?” she heard herself say.

She blinked too slowly. It felt like a full minute passed between the time her eye lashes started to move down over her tired eye and the time they receded, showing her…what were they showing her? Oh…beautiful red eyes. She smiled in wonder.

“Who are you?”

“Elinor, please...” something warm gently touched her hand, “sit down.”

She looked down to see a large blue hand clasp her right wrist. The act of looking down sent her vestibular system into chaos and she stumbled forward. She felt warmth around her as she fell into darkness.

 

He caught her easily. As Major Cran and Lieutenant Pyrondi rushed over to assist him, he tried to gently lay Elinor down on the floor. There was not much room to maneuver in the aisle way of the transport and so to avoid hurting her, he had to kneel with her head still on his chest.

“Dr. Yermentic, should be here momentarily, sir.” Cran said stiffly.

“No, Dr. Yermentic _is_ here,” said a dry female voice at the back of the transport. “What, did you do to the poor girl?” Yermentic pursed her lips and cocked her head accusingly at the Chiss.

Thrawn looked at his CMO “I believe she had suffered a seizure during transport, Doctor. Upon waking she was confused and disoriented. She lost consciousness again just prior to your arrival.”

Yermentic grunted.

“Very well, I’ll get a med droid and a sled and take her to sick bay. In the meantime…” the doctor brandished a syringe and unceremoniously pulled the woman’s dress up, plunging the needle into her naked thigh. “That will keep her asleep and stable for some time. Would someone be able to lift her? I don’t think I can get the sled in here.”

Thrawn was already on his feet, carrying her easily toward the back of the ship and the waiting medical lift.

As he watched Yermentic and the medical droid escort the unconscious form of Elinor Savona to the Chimaera’s sick bay his mind flashed to her response to him.

_“I know you… Your…eyes…from the dream…I’m not meant to be afraid…of you…I’m alright…Who-Who are you?”_

It seemed to Thrawn, a large puzzle piece had just fallen into place. And he did not like the picture.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello,
> 
> Please take note that Axon remains on the surface. Rogyn is also still there assisting him with supplies to support the Chimaera.
> 
> I apologize for spelling errors, typing errors, errors in judgment, etc. However, if you have questions, comments, concerns or money (especially that!) I will happily that them timidly - I still can't believe I'm doing this.
> 
> Educational moment: Many people with seizure disorders have a recovery medicine such that when they feel the an aura - a prelude to an epileptic event - they can take the medicine and it can sometimes help - it is generally fast acting but it must be taken quickly and does not always work especially if the aura comes on very suddenly and the seizure comes soon after.


	11. Orientation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In This Chapter:  
> Thrawn confirms his hunch - Elinor doesn't just have dreams  
> Ezra can only tell him a little...  
> Ellie likely made an impression on Dr. Yermentic.  
> The Grand Admiral has a keen sense of smell  
> Girl falls deeply in love with...her lab  
> The benefits package sucks: Thrawn and Elinor clash

He strode quickly toward Deck 20, boots clanking on the deck underneath him. Thrawn was certain Bridger already knew he was coming, had already guessed that the Chiss was furious with him and was likely trying to worm his way further into the depths of the damaged sections of the ship. Instead, the boy simply stood in front of him, arms crossed over his chest looking expectantly at the Grand Admiral charging toward him.

Thrawn grabbed him by the neck and lifted him off the deck still moving forward quickly until he slammed Ezra up against one of the many durasteel plates covering what was once a viewport. As if to accent his anger, the Chiss tightened his hold on the boy’s neck and lifted him higher.

“Good to see you too.” Ezra quipped hoarsely

“You knew she was Force sensitive.” Thrawn hissed. It was not a question.

“Would you have brought her onboard if she was?”

Thrawn tightened his grip again.

“Tell me Bridger, why should I not send you out the nearest airlock?”

“I’ve been wondering that, myself.”

Thrawn’s eyes narrowed.

“I will give you one last opportunity to tell me why you want her aboard my ship”

Bridger remained silent. Thrawn sighed.

“Very well. Your tender Jedi sensibilities will not be offended when she goes to the airlock in your place?”

Thrawn let him go and he slid down, wheezing as he hit the floor, instantly shooting up. But the Grand Admiral was already marching back toward the turbolifts.

“No! Thrawn wait! She doesn’t even know she has the ability. She’s afraid of it.”

Thrawn turned, his eyes glowing a fierce red.

“I suppose you intend to educate her. Is that the reason she is here?”

“I can only tell you a little…”

“Tread very carefully Bridger” the Grand Admiral whispered dangerously “for if I find what you have to tell me unsatisfying, Elinor Savona will have one more reason to be fearful.”

 

Ellie woke slowly, drowsily and with a headache that made her want to throw up. She turned her head and moaned as pain shot through her right temple. This was the fallout of having a seizure. It was to be expected given that she had missed two doses of medicine within the course of a week, but it made her nervous that it only took that and a sleepless night or two to cause…well, this. They would always be right underneath the surface, for her. She would never be normal – she never was.

A woman’s cheerful voice suddenly spoke to her from the foot of her bed.

Bed? How did she get in a bed?

“Ah, your awake!”

“Where?” Elinor tried to ask but she had terrible cottonmouth.

“You are in a military installation that your reporting supervisor will describe for you shortly. You had a seizure dear; on the way here.”

Ellie nodded her understanding.

“I’m Dr. Yermentic, the Chief Medical Officer. I’m going to let you rest for a few more hours and then let your reporting supervisor know you’re available for visitors?”

She nodded again.

“You look almost green; do you need something for nausea?”

She nodded again but this time the movement caused her stomach to flip and the medicine Dr. Yermentic would have given her for queasiness was just a bit too late in its arrival.

 

The Grand Admiral arrived back at his office. He sat heavily down at his desk and started reviewing the mid-day reports. There was still no contact with the rest of the 7th Fleet. The first thru fifth engines were off line and the ninth was badly damaged. The remaining four were enough. For now. The life support system seemed to be holding its own. The aux cooling feed lines were clogged again. Two crewmen on Deck 9 had gotten into a fist fight and were currently in the detention block awaiting disciplinary review. Supplies from the surface were coming up at a frequency that was acceptable, thanks to the work of Commander Axon and Trooper Rogyn who had stayed behind after removing Martin Tassi as a threat to Dr. Savona.

Thrawn inhaled deeply and caught the scent of her on his uniform where her head had rested on his chest. He frowned. A distraction.

Grand Admiral Thrawn did not need distractions.

He exhaled and continued to read. Decks 16,18 and 19 were still in ruins. Seventeen required immediate restoration due to the ship wide fire prevention system mainframe being located there. Thankfully the decks with safety related systems had been fixed or at least fixed to an augmented-safety standard. Now engineering was tasked with overseeing each system worked during all states of operation: sub-light, hyperspace, stand-by, automatic, manual, and disengagement. Elinor Savona could supposedly help with instrumentation and….Thrawn inhaled deeply again.

He put his datapad down.

If he was going to focus, he needed to understand why he was so distracted. If the root cause could be determined, so too could a solution.

Her scent.

It was not unpleasant. On the contrary, it was very pleasing. Floral but cool and crisp. He pondered that. Many beings found olfactory stimulation heightened during times of sexual desire and arousal.

He hadn’t taken a lover since leaving the Ascendancy. There were too many risks in the Empire, with its political intrigues and back stabbing, false friendships and conditional alliances. A temporary companion, the least preferred option, could be used against him and his time commitment to the Navy did not allow him to establish an emotional connection with a female not under his command. That left him with only self-pleasuring. Perhaps there in lie the distraction…

He rose from his desk and made for his private quarters once again taking a deep breath to capture her scent before shedding his tunic.

 

Lieutenant Pyrondi was to be her “reporting supervisor,” which was a relief for Ellie. She liked the Lieutenant and got the impression Pyrondi felt the same about her. Elinor was hesitant to say they would become friends though. She really didn’t have friends.

Once she was able to sit up straight and keep a few crackers down she felt much better. Pyrondi insisted she take her time and recover fully but Elinor was anxious to get settled, and so Dr. Yermentic, having no reason to keep her, signed her release. She was first taken to her quarters which apparently were in the same building as the medical staff – convenient.

The room was small and very metallic. She would put her armchair in one of the corners and a few bookshelves up and it would be home. The U-Haul should be coming sometime within the next day or so, she imagined, but she made a mental note to ask Mr. Cran about it.

After dinner, in a conference room, the Lieutenant offered to show her where she would be working. Naturally, Elinor jumped at the idea!

“Yes, please!”

“Well, technically speaking, you’ll be working all over the sh- ..ah base.” Pyrondi said as they walked through the corridors of what was the largest most convoluted building Elinor had ever been in. “but the main area, we will call Deck 17.”

“Ok” Elinor looked around wide eyed, admiring the pristine shine of the metal walkways. Government spending was beyond her. If they could just take some of that money and feed the poor or offer free education…how different the world could be?

“I understand I’m to report to this location the day after tomorrow at 8 o’ clo-“ Elinor stopped walking when she saw them. Her brow furrowing; her mouth falling open. Pyrondi stopped too and followed her gaze.

Stormtroopers. Two of them, standing in the hall. Pyrondi felt realization hit. Elinor had never seen a stormtrooper in armor before.

“Why are they dressed up like bowling pins with weird eyes?” she asked.

Pyrondi looked over at her. “They’re the guards that we have on the base. We call them stormtroopers.”

“Why are…why do they have to wear masks.”

Pyrondi held her breath. Ok, time to see if the Grand Admiral’s plan would work.

“Perhaps we should go to the lab to discuss it.”

Ellie gaped as they waked by the two men chatting animatedly – something about someone getting a rose from a bachelor – despite their faces being covered, their voices were remarkably clear. They both carried large guns and their armor was shiny and white. It looked like it would be heavy and awkward.

When they entered “the lab” Elinor forgot about the white armored men in the hallway. She forgot about the mild headache behind her eyes and the ache in her feet. She forgot how she missed her brother and her townhouse near Uptown. Ellie felt a childish kind of glee wash over her – like a kid on Christmas morning experiencing pure joy.

“I um…Wow. I - …wow..”

Pyrondi smiled widely. “We thought you’d like it. You should have everything that you’ll need, but if you don’t, please contact Commander Axon on the surface, he’ll help you.”

“on the surface?” Ellie asked absently still looking around the cavernous room.

“Uh, it’s – uh slang. Because he’s in procurement.”

“Oh.” Ellie bobbed her head mechanically as she approached a mass spectrometer.

“There’s a destructive testing area in the back and 5 rows of annealing furnaces – there’s more down a few levels. There’s a clean room on Deck 13. A hot lab is available to you on Deck 16.”

She couldn’t help but laugh and shake her head.

“What is it that I’m actually working on?”

Pyrondi shrugged. “I think I’ll let someone higher up explain that.”

Casually she walked over to a lab bench with a small tripod speaker used for conference calls. She pressed a single button and smiled at Elinor.

“Good luck, ma’am.” She turned to leave.

“Wait!”

“Dr. Savona.” A voice came from the speaker phone.

That voice…it was suave, sophisticated. She couldn’t place the accent. Had she heard it before?

“Yes?”

“You wish to better understand your responsibilities.” It was a statement.

“I do.”

“I will tell you. I will also inform you of some rules you must follow while being stationed here.”

Elinor swallowed. “Alright.”

“First, this is a military installation created solely for advanced technology.”

“What type of advanced technology?” Ellie bit her lip.

“That is not your concern,” said the voice.

Elinor’s blood ran cold. She would not be part of weaponry development. She was morally opposed to it.

_But honestly what did you expect? You’re working for the military? Naive fool!_

She opened her mouth to voice her displeasure when the voice continued.

“This installation has been severely damaged. It is your job to assist in its restoration. You will be given free reign of the base apart from Deck 20. Assistance will be rendered by 106 engineers of varying disciplines and over 1000 technicians and maintenance workers. A list of the lead engineers by discipline will be provided to you. You will begin by discussing restoration needs by Deck with the system engineers. Use whatever resources you deem appropriate to reinstate each system. There is of course a priority level for which systems must be brought online as soon as possible. This will also be made known to you. Upon your review of the scope of work, you will provide a brief assessment on physical resources required and time to completion. The code name for this project is Chimaera.”

There was a slight pause to let her come to terms with the information he just provided her.

Chimaera.

A mythical hybrid beast. A symbol of disaster. Elinor started to become _very_ nervous about all of this.

“The military personnel on this base hold, what you would call, top secret clearance and therefore, prefer to keep a level of anonymity. As you are a civilian, you are expected to follow all orders given to you by military personnel, without question.”

Another pause.

“I will now address any question, you may have.”

Elinor scowled at the speakerphone. The voice on the other line seemed heavy handed; used to getting his way…definitely military. She needed to be cautious.

“Thank you. First, to whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?”

“My name is irrelevant.”

_Ok. Have it your way_ , Elinor thought.

“Very well, I am expecting delivery of personnel items shortly, can you tell me how I might arrange to take possession of them? Will someone on the base contact me when the U-Haul arrives?”

There was a longer pause.

“It will be investigated.”

“Thank you. I’m also wondering about your HR policies regarding time away from the base. I will eventually, with approval, like to return home to see fam-“

“That is not possible” the voice interrupted.

Elinor blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You will not be allowed to leave this installation until all work has been satisfactorily completed.”

She felt her face begin to turn red. “The arrangement made between me, Mr. Cran and Mr. Dizon was very clear. I am allowed, periodic reprieve outside the confines of this base.”

The suave voice became icy. “They unfortunately, do not have authorization to grant such reprieve.”

“And you do?” Elinor’s temper flared.

“I do.”

Ellie knew she shouldn’t have. Knew it was a bad idea to threaten. Military men responded to force, perhaps he would appreciate her brave attempt at push-back.

“Then, let me assure you, I will be provided what I am owed, or you won’t get what you want either.”

“You will meet your obligations, or there will be very unpleasant consequences.” He hissed.

_Well…that went well._

“Of course, I will. I am a professional, after all,” She soothed. “But I wonder if you happen to be familiar with the concept of…malicious compliance?”

“Only total compliance is acceptable.”

“We shall see,” She growled into the tripod speaker.

“Yes, we shall,” And with that the line went silent.

Elinor pounded her good hand on the top of the lab bench.

Fine, she would just spend as much money as possible. She would drag her heels. She would create so much bureaucracy, it would drive even a U.S. government agency insane. And in the mean time she would wiggle her way out of the building and have a look around. Maybe get cell reception and call Drew. She would find a way to contact the outside world and let someone know she was being held against her will.

Channel 11 news would love a story like this!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi.
> 
> Things get more "technical" I suppose, but there's more interaction between Elinor and Thrawn.
> 
> The "technical stuff" is really just jargonized whatthehellisms, that make me feel mildly intelligent. I said mildly - I'm being generous. Mostly if you say them out loud they sound funny and make you giggle (try it after a little alcohol and a good cry...hilarity!)


	12. Project Chimaera

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In This Chapter:  
> Elinor gives Thrawn a new name  
> Grand Admiral: 1 Engineer: 0  
> Grand Admiral: 2 Engineer: 0  
> Jedi sees threat, engineer needs looking after  
> Enter...poor judgment?

The next day passed slowly. She waited for the U-Haul. Had tried to contact Lieutenant Pyrondi to inquire about its status.

Nothing. Without books and the majority of her music – still on CD - she had never gotten around to digitizing it – Elinor was in a state of misery. In desperation, she opted to brave socialization and explore her new surroundings.

The building, she decided, must have been a giant convoluted elongated skyscraper and whoever designed the structure deserved to be shot (in her professional opinion).

She believed at one point there had been windows, but they were now covered by thick panes of metal. Floors, walls, and ceilings were all metal. In fact, there were certain hallways that were monochromatic, and with such subtle lighting and shadow that Ellie would have sworn she was looking at an M.C. Escher drawing. It made her stomach flip.

She had not heard again from the man she spoke to over the phone the day previous. Elinor decided it was acceptable to take a page out of Fink’s book and start characterizing people the way he usually did – after all, she did punch Tassi in the nose. She was a wild woman, now! Therefore, the man on the phone was dubbed, in her mind, “The Jerk in Charge.”

Many of the officers actually smiled and waved when they saw her. She noticed several pointing and whispering animatedly to each other. As she walked by, they stopped to introduce themselves and shook her hand enthusiastically. Ellie was by-no-means a social butterfly, but even she found this a bit odd. Perhaps, they read some of her papers on Bi-Stable Thermal Mechanical Systems?

By the end of the day, despite not having expending much mental energy, she was exhausted. Tomorrow she would finally get to play in her new lab. Before she could really enjoy herself though, she would have to interview over 100 other engineers to better understand the extent of the damage to the base….and find out what “The Jerk in Charge” meant by _advanced technology_.

 

A week. Just one week. She had already proven herself capable of understanding their technology. She had become well acquainted with the Chimaera. Thrawn was certain she was well aware of the scope of repair and replacement. He was also confident she knew how long it would take to accomplish those.

It was time.

He pressed the button to be dialed into her lab. Audio only technology was quite useful in this particular case. She picked up on the fifth ring.

“Savona!”

“Dr. Savona,” he couldn’t help but smile thinly, “I am happy to hear you are settling into your new position.”

There was a pause.

“Yes. Thank you.”

“When last we spoke, I requested a report on the scope of work, an assessment of needed resources and an estimate on time to completion.”

“Ah, yes, you did.”

“I require that report by 1800 hours, tomorrow.”

“Oh! I already finished it.”

Thrawn arched an eyebrow. This woman was quite impressive.

“Excellent. Please provide it to Lieutenant Pyr-“

“Oh, there isn’t much to it. I can read it to you over the phone!” she cheerfully interjected.

He leaned forward, rested his elbows on his desk and steepled his fingers.

“Go on,” he said calmly but he could feel the frown already creasing his features.

“Scope of work: A lot. Assessment of needs: Quite a bit of stuff. Time to completion: that depends on whether or not you give me my reprieve.” Her voice was matter-of-factly but it shook slightly, perhaps out of nervousness.

Thrawn felt his lips curl up in a smile. He waited long enough for the silence to be uncomfortable for her.

“Dr. Savona, have you received your…U-Haul?”

He heard the gasp and knew he had won.

“Where is it?” she demanded.

He leaned closer to the speaker. “I imagine, it is in the same location as my report,” He purred.

There was pregnant pause.

“I get my U-Haul. You get your report.”

“1800 hours, tomorrow.” Thrawn confirmed with a smirk.

“Fine!”

He was not able to reply. She had cut the connection. Probably in a violent manner. The Grand Admiral was quite pleased with himself.

 

Elinor had handed the report to Pyrondi. It was to her usual standards. Very clear. Very thorough. Very direct. Thirty minutes later two of the white armored men – stormtroopers – escorted her down a few levels to a deck with several…she couldn’t tell what they were….Some looked like boxes, some looked like black gum balls with novelty paper plates attached. She hadn’t been down to this level, so she took the opportunity to gape.

Her U-Haul was right outside one of the boxes! She grinned and ran to open the back. Swiftly she pulled out the ramp and unlatched the door. With a dramatic pose she pulled it up.

She didn’t usually curse – but this was, in Elinor’s opinion, a perfect time for the F word.

There was a single box. One box.

One _fucking_ box!

She ran to it and opened it hurriedly with tears in her eyes. It was the one with her CDs and her CD player. That was it. That’s all she had.

She screamed wordlessly in grief and frustration.

Gingerly she picked up the box and stormed down the ramp with her head held high. She took it to her room and placed it on her bed, turned on her heels and immediately marched out to find Pyrondi.

When Elinor Savona found the poor unsuspecting Lieutenant, she demanded to know how to contact the “Jerk in Charge”…in person.

 

Thrawn had just finished sparring with his sentinel droids, when the call came in.

Dr. Savona was _not_ happy. But Thrawn was. Her report had been exemplary, exactly what he would have expected from someone of her skill. Apparently, she wanted to meet him, in person.

She would have to get used to disappointment.

Although, there was a way to meet her _and_ keep his identity secret.

He toyed with the idea – it would be beneficial to keep an eye on her especially after Bridger’s forewarning since the threat the young Jedi saw was amorphous. Still, given her rather violent reaction to the U-Haul incident…Thrawn imagined she could be incredibly stubborn if provided the opportunity. He smiled tightly.

A worthy challenge then.

 

Another week passed. Elinor could puff up her chest and threaten to sabotage the project in terms of time, money and other resources, but the simple truth of the matter was she just wasn’t capable of it. Her conscience forbade it. She wouldn’t be able to look herself in the mirror if she didn’t do her absolute best in getting things done correctly, on time and under budget (it wasn’t like she _had_ a restricted budget though!)

She would go back to what she could do. What she always wanted to do. Fix things.

She walked into the lab on the morning of Day 18. Usually the lab was empty when she got in at 0700.

Today it was not.

Someone stood in the shadows, dressed in armor. It was different than the white armor the stormtroopers wore. He, or Ellie supposed the person was male, stepped forward after she stopped and stared at him.

“Hello,” she said mechanically.

“Greetings” the voice was suave and sounded vaguely familiar.

“If you’re looking for the bathroom, it’s down the hall,” she pressed her lips together in a fine line as she set her messenger bag down on her desk and started to assess the mold design from the 3D printer.

“I am not lost, if that is what you are implying.”

“Hmm.” She hummed absently.

The mold turned out perfectly and would be an excellent means of casting new parts to support Deck 18 plating bolts. She would design the connectors and snubbers next, send those through the printer. They needed to melt down some scrap and…

_Wait…he’s not lost? _

“You’re purposely here because…why?” Elinor pursed her lips and furrowed her brow. She didn’t have time for sightseers.

“I have been contracted to act as your bodyguard.”

Elinor closed her eyes and shook her head. She’d placed too much stress on herself. She could have sworn a strange smooth-talking man, wandered into her lab, dressed as a can of green beans, told her he was going to be her bodyguard. She giggled.

The man cocked his head slightly. “I do not see where in lies the amusement.”

This just made it worse. She burst into fits of laughter.

She really needed that reprieve. She really needed to see Drew and Fink. She’d even welcome a visit from Rick!

“Go away!” she yelled and spun back around toward her desk.

She busied herself with taking her laptop out of her bag and setting up what she called her “check list” for the day. Each lead engineer would give a very brief description on changes to their system. If the change was significant or needed immediate attention technicians working on other repair items would be appropriately diverted to assist, but in general, Ellie found out about those emergencies in real time. In fact, just two days ago she was awakened at 0230 to news of a gas leak down on Deck 27.

Thankfully the crews were very responsive most of the time and required little prompting. There were, however, exceptions to every rule. The techs were eager to listen to her ideas. The younger engineers were also willing to hear her out…but the twenty-six lead engineers – older “more experienced” men. They were more of a challenge.

She brought up the list on the big screen, turned around to grab her notebook, and ran right into a chest of green armor, or would have, if two arms hadn’t shot out to grab both her arms.

“Ugh. You’re still here? Why?” Elinor looked up at the man, really seeing him for the first time.

His armor was green – chest plate, and shin guards; his wrist braces and leg wear in thick brown leather. It didn’t look nearly as bulky as stormtrooper gear but on this man, it seemed like it would be just as effective. He also wore a cape and brown gloves. The helmet seemed minimal to Ellie – like it was meant to be subtle yet intimidating. He was lean and tall.

She wasn’t short by female standards – 5’8” was above average, but she still found herself looking up at him. Perhaps it was because he was so close. She tried to step back but he continued to hold her upper arms.

“I am here for your protection,” he said again.

“Yes. Thank you,” she said a bit too tartly to her ears. “Why is a bodyguard deemed necessary?”

He let go of her arms slowly, as if he half expected her to try to physically attack him.

“You have made it clear you are unhappy with your work environment. I am here for protection…against your own self.”

Elinor gaped at him. “Excuse me?”

“I am here to guard against any lapses in judgment.”

Her face was piping hot. Ellie was so angry, tears started to form at the corner of her eyes. When she thought she could speak coherently she did slowly, carefully.

“How. Dare. You. How dare you?”

If his face was visible, she would have slapped it and it was then she decided she never wanted to see it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The U-Haul was actually in the hanger bay. They brought it up in a transport and tried to make it look as "normal" as possible...except they pulled a collage type prank and took out all her stuff (except one f***ing box!)


	13. Routine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mild Sexual Content 
> 
> In This Chapter:  
> Dr. Savona establishes a routine...her "body guard" is looking for sabotage  
> Ellie wants to know what to call her body guard  
> Axon's a bit slow down on the surface and Thrawn wonders why.  
> Elinor goes out late to do engineer stuff...  
> ...and ends up in an awkward position

Thrawn watched her every day. Elinor Savona managed the engineering teams well, taking suggestions from the techs and other engineers, but in the end asserting a final decision on process and procedure. She took steps to train the techs in some of the more abstract and primitive technologies and sent them out in teams to search the ship for adequate substitutes.

Rarely something would break due to a tech pulling a coupling or power cable he shouldn’t have. At which point a problem-solving team would be formed to determine a fix either with the original component or with a less desired substitute.

Elinor did not sit at her desk and watch things from afar either.

She had large pieces of equipment brought in – some of the techs had disassembled an AT-AT walker and offered up pieces for her to mine for useful components. She climbed through the husk like a child would in a playground.

She was rebuilding an Imperial Star Destroyer and she didn’t even know it.

Thrawn smiled to himself behind his guise of Mandalorian armor.

Her indifference toward her “bodyguard” was not unexpected, but she did bristle at his attempts to follow her into the field. There were several times she had tried to evade him, but he had used several of the Chimaera’s remaining CT10’s to track her movements when he was unable to monitor her directly. In cases such as those, Pyrondi kept an eye on her, ensuring she came to no harm.

Once she retired to her room, there was no place for her to escape to. The CT10s would lie in wait for her when she exited the next morning and he would be waiting for her at the lab. She would offer a nod of acknowledgement in his direction and begin her routine. Every week she was “rewarded” with a box filled with her personal belongings – mostly books, with some pictures of her brother and parents. Each time she would hurriedly go through the box and look in wonder at her own possessions.

During this time, the Grand Admiral could not find evidence of a threat; regardless he monitored her progress, and was on the lookout for potential sabotage, inadvertent or otherwise.

Elinor Savona had settled into a routine.

The Chiss watching over her was ever vigilant.

 

Ellie sighed – it had been a long day.

Tomae had pulled something out of somewhere he shouldn’t have, and bells and whistles had gone off all over the place.

She liked Tomae. He was young, eager to learn, enthusiastic…maybe a little too enthusiastic.

The technician was constantly bringing her bits and pieces of wiring and power cells; asking her if she could use this or that. She would smile and nod encouragingly. It wasn’t until Dana Grav, an electrical engineer from Deck 14 suggested they get a meal together that her own bells and whistles started going off.

_Uh oh…was Tomae trying to pursue her?_

He was very nice. Sweet, even. But young. Painfully young. Immature. Probably twenty-one or twenty-two.

She had just turned twenty-nine…the day had passed with no ceremony. It was two days later that she realized it. And she was still…just her.

She shrugged her shoulders at the thought and moved to dim the lights in the lab.

Ellie looked tiredly over at her shadow, the bodyguard she was assigned, silently signaling to him she was ready to leave. He nodded once and moved toward her.

They usually did not speak, and Ellie felt a growing sense of guilt over her frostiness. It wasn’t his fault someone order him to watch her boring life. She swallowed and worked moisture into her mouth.

“I – um. Never learned your name.”

The man did not break step as he moved to her side, but he cocked his head slightly. He paused as if assessing her.

“For the purpose of this assignment I do not have one,” he said softly.

She had gotten use to the paranoia that seemed to exist on the base – it was almost tangible; constant, unyielding. It hadn’t taken her long to adjust to it. She was also a very private person, but at least she could call people by their names – or _a_ name.

“What if I’m in the bathroom and someone tries to kidnap me? Would it not be helpful to call out for you by name?” she offered as they walked toward her room.

“You may simply scream,” there may have been a hint of amusement in that suave voice.

“I scream when I see bugs. I don’t want you barging into the bathroom if I happen to see a bug there!” she put as much indignation into her voice as she could. It wasn’t working.

“The facilities here are very clean and free of pests.” This time there was definite amusement in his voice.

“No, I’m serious! What do I call you?” She said as they reached her door.

They stopped, and he looked down at her. They didn’t move, both stubbornly holding on.

“You will use it sparingly.” It was a command. Strong. Sure. Confident that he would get what he demanded.

“Yes,” she whispered.

He bent down so his helmeted head was close to her ear, she adjusted her head, neck and shoulders to allow him to be closer, trying hard not to shiver at his proximity.

“Thrawn.”

 

They started talking after that.

It was clipped, and business like at first. “Could you please hand me that tool?”, “I’m going to the mess hall would you care for anything?”, and his favorite – “If you need to maintain your air of mystery, there are privacy rooms in the back, but you really should eat.”

Eventually it became more relaxed. She asked him one day if she could play some music and if it was offensive to him, she could easily try something else. Thrawn found that, as hard as she tried, she could not bring herself to be as indifferent to the world around her as she wanted to be.

It amused him.

Elinor engaged him first on his opinion of her music selection, which rapidly transitioned to art in general. The conversations branched off from there. The Chiss was unsurprised to find that she offered an intelligent well-thought out opinion on almost everything. Occasionally the two would spar over certain topics, notably philosophical principles of reality and a long drawn out discussion on the reasons and motives behind religious suppression of scientific thought.

She would wiggle out from under whatever piece of machinery she had been dissecting in grease stained coveralls, her safety lenses making a thin outline on her otherwise grim covered face and continue with her argument. Elinor did not focus on the superficial and was completely uninhibited in the use of her intellect, making her that much more of an interesting conversationalist and appealing in other ways too.

 

The Grand Admiral sat back with his hands resting on the arms of his chair. He had spent the last two hours looking at the ship status reports, much of the information he already knew from his day in the engineering lab with Elinor. There were some items outside of ship maintenance and repair that needed his attention however, namely the sluggish response from the surface regarding supplies.

He put in a request for the com connection.

“Command Axon?”

“Yes, Admiral,” the commander sounded winded.

“I understand resupply activities have been lagging recently. Do you require further assistance from the Chimaera?”

“No sir. Apologies sir, Trooper Rogyn and I have been diligent in keeping a low profile. As such we’ve needed to expend a bit more resources to obtain food stuffs and equipment requested by Dr. Savona. The pre-established schedule should resume within the next day.”

“Excellent Commander. I appreciate your caution. Please, inform me if you require assistance.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” The commander seemed unusually relieved upon the disconnect.

Thrawn’s brow furrowed and he pondered what types of “precautionary measures” Axon would have to put into place for _food_. His musings were interrupted when one of the Chimaera’s CTs signaled activity. He leaned in to get a closer look.

It appeared that Dr. Elinor Savona was suffering from insomnia.

 

She crept out into the hallway, careful to look innocent and nonchalant. Ellie had tried to sleep but it was slowly driving her crazy.

They had found a large shaft down on Deck 31 and based on the base drawings given to her, there should be all sorts of salvageable parts above it.

She could do some ultrasonic testing and look for power lines and hydraulic fluid lines in that area. They could cut through the shaft and harvest all those useful parts – power cells, extra cabling, couplings, and probably much more.

It was a gold mine!

She was just going to do some scouting tonight - look into the shaft and do a feasibility assessment on what it would take to get ultrasonic and cutting equipment up in there.

When she was certain she was in the clear she ran to the lab, grinning from ear-to-ear.

Out of habit she looked over to the corner where her bodyguard, Thrawn usually stood. He wasn’t there. For the best, she thought, since he probably wouldn’t approve of her traipsing around the base late at night.

She grabbed a clean room suit, goggles, gel hand and foot grips, as well as a bag of tools, and a notebook. Ellie skipped to the bathroom and donned the suit, leaving her bra and panties on underneath. She entered the elevator and pressed the button for Deck 31.

 

She looked up at the shaft and decided it was much more monolithic than when she first saw it.

_You weren’t seriously thinking about climbing inside of it, then._

She got on her hunches and looked up inside. It wasn’t too steep, and there appeared to be hand and foot holds intermittently spaced. There were even small light fixtures in place.

Elinor smiled as she crawled into the tube, each of the techs would have to climb up one at a time, but there was certainly room for the needed equipment. She leaned up against the side to adjust her gel grips and felt a tugging sensation on her cleanroom suit.

Looking down she moved away from the wall and heard a wet sounding plop as her suit swept away from the side of the shaft. It couldn’t be static cling. The suits were designed to limit such interaction. She moved closer to the wall again and gasped when her pant lag became suctioned to the metal of the wall once again. She pulled away, to the same sickening sounding plop and bent to investigate.

There was a clear, highly viscous glob of…she didn’t quite know what it was. It looked like lubricant, but there wasn’t anything down here moving that would require a lubricant. It wasn’t coolant because it was too thick. Ellie looked around for evidence of a line break and found nothing.

She tentatively smelled it and noted the odor was faintly sour. She shook her head.

Perhaps it was residue from a manufacturing process?

Whatever it was, it had left her suit a mess and there was absolutely no way she could climb up in soggy clean room clothes. As she stripped off the suit, she gave half a thought to taking off her bra and panties – they were her best ones – lacy and pink and the most feminine things she had since moving to the base other than three dresses. She shrugged; better to leave them on.

_Suck it up, buttercup – you’re working for the military now!_

 

Thrawn had sent the CT10 after her while he removed his Grand Admirals uniform and began dressing in his Mandalorian armor. She was headed toward the turbolifts and he was just able to make out the CTs feed indicating her destination as Deck 31, when he strode quickly out of his office.

They had been down there earlier in the day, looking at a few conduits and she had expressed an interest in inspecting the area above a bio-ventilation shaft in the hopes of finding “treasures.” Several of the technicians had quickly looked away or mumbled their acknowledgement and assured her they would look at it immediately.

No one wanted to explain to her, that there really was _nothing_ there; that the nomenclature on the Chimaera’s schematics were incorrectly translated for all of Deck 31 and before they could fix the mistake, she had already started her review and found the “treasures.”

No one wanted to tell the poor woman that the shaft was used as a filter to ensure small pests such as young space slugs and mynocks did not work their way into the ship and wreak havoc on the massive war vessel.

Once on Deck 31, he made his way to the bio-ventilation system section of the ship. Section 7 lighting was on as he moved around pieces of debris, he noted a tool bag and small notebook near the 7A vent outlet.

He exhaled a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

 

Ellie grew up on a farm.

She was used to disgusting things coming from disgusting places, but this was pushing it, even for her.

She tried to breathe through her mouth, gave up and just decided she would try not to breathe at all.

She had almost reached the top. This part of the shaft was only 15 feet tall but it snaked up at the top and bottom like a low gradient shepherd’s hook and she was…almost…to…the top…

THERE!

She laughed as she looked down from her perch, the strange sour smelling goop sliding down the front of her.

The laugh became choked and the feeling of accomplishment fell down into her stomach like a lead ball when she looked up, or rather, down. The shaft dropped a good 30 feet and elbowed back up like some strange manic serpent had burrowed its way through the base. The location she’d likely need to get to was 200 feet down the tunnel she was now in, but she would need help in traversing the gaping maws where the shaft twisted and turned.

She felt itchy.

Her best undergarments were ruined.

The adrenaline rush was gone and in its place was an overwhelming sense of fatigue. She tried to wipe away the muck from her goggles, sat backward to collect herself and slipped. The lubricant, that wasn’t a lubricant had made it difficult to climb up the shaft.

It did _not_ make it difficult to slide back down it.

 

He had found the inflated clean room padding at the 7A vent outlet and was standing in front of it with his arms crossed over his chest armor, thinking of how best to chastise the Chimaera’s Head Engineer when he heard the startled scream.

A thump and a rush of mynock saliva from the outlet were the prelude to her arrival. Elinor Savona slid out of the vent onto the padding right in front of the Grand Admiral in disguise.

Thrawn, himself would have found it extremely amusing if he had not been so…aroused.

She landed in her underthings, her skin slick, chest heaving. Her legs were spread open and bent at the knees. Upon learning she was not alone, she ripped off her goggles and gaped up at him, her face and chest heating the space between them.

However, before she could sputter out an explanation, he grabbed her upper arm and marched her to the Section 7 emergency showers.

“Remove your clothing. The saliva is acidic. You will need to bathe.”

 

He had gone to get the clothes she left in the lab minus under ware while she showered. When he returned, she was sitting in an old office chair, wrapped up in a sheet, shivering. He allowed her privacy to dress and when she was done, she walked slowly out of Section 7 with her head lowered and her face flushed. He escorted her back to her room in silence.

It was unlikely she needed the reprimand he had previously planned for her.

 

When Thrawn finally returned to his quarters that evening, he decided he was disappointed.

Disappointed with himself.

He was in command. He was never to lose control of the situation – especially on his own ship. When that situation involved losing control of his own focus, it was unforgivable.

He had watched her face as she looked up at him. Her lips slightly parted, eyes widened. She made no move to cover herself and the heat that had enveloped her was instant. Her legs were spread as if she were offering herself to him. He could envision their bodies, ivory and blue, pressed together so there was no room for argument between them. She would moan his name as she looked into his eyes.

_No. This cannot happen._

The Grand Admiral decided he probably wouldn’t sleep. He made his way to his training room and activated both sentinel droids.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello,
> 
> Guess what!? I learned how to "tag"...I think. Not well but...I think I have to add "Russian spy novel enthusiast start reading here". 
> 
> Don't get too discouraged if you aren't in to romance - read with one eye closed and it will be over before you know it. There is a plot. It's probably dumb but blame it on too many Tom Clancy books and silly spy novels in my youth. 
> 
> Let's recap shall we: 1) No idea what I'm doing. 2) Never done this before. 3) Terrified I'm doing it wrong 4) Also I started this silliness when I was laid off in mid-Nov. I'm proof reading before posting and there are fireworks going off right now so expect there to be random BOOMS and POPS in the text. 
> 
> Happy New Year! I sure do hope 2019 is better than 2018.


	14. Loss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings:  
> Claustrophobia, Sad, Minor Character Deaths
> 
> In This Chapter:  
> Elinor gives Thrawn a gift. Are they friends? Perhaps.  
> Ezra ends up in sick bay with a monster who knew.  
> Dr. Savona has an admirer - it's not the admirer she was hoping for...  
> There's a message from the surface...someone besides Imperials knows about the Chimaera  
> Remember Ezra's vision from Chapter 2? ...She was in a tunnel...oppressive heat...

Elinor decided she had never been so embarrassed in her twenty-nine years. There was the incident during her Candidacy exam, after having a Red Bull the night before, she had belched loudly while reciting her methodology. Her advisor praised her use of her diaphragm but said she needed to speak slower, or she’d float away.

She would have preferred emitting bodily gasses in front of someone over landing spread-eagled half naked in front of them. It wasn’t so much that she was covered in…she still didn’t know what it was –(saliva?) - it was that she did it in front of _him_.

She liked Thrawn and enjoyed his company. He seemed educated, well spoken, sophisticated even. He had unique opinions on art, history and current affairs. His ideas weren’t mainstream. She would not be able to find an opinion piece from a news outlet that mirrored his line of thinking or came to the stated conclusion in the same manner. He was…unique. She liked that. Maybe that was the problem – she was concerned about his opinion of her. Did he think her foolish?

_Idiot! You don’t know him. You haven’t even seen his face. He’s assigned to watch you. That’s it!_

Her father used to say, that the world is what you make of it.

She tried to fix things. There were things that she just couldn’t fix. People, for one. But maybe, just maybe, this one person may not think bad of her if she just offered a little of herself.

It was a risk…she didn’t like getting close to people.

The man did see her in her under ware though. She could, in the least, give him something he might find special as a thank you for not chastising her and allowing her to keep some of her dignity.

 

The next morning, she breezed into the lab, instantly looking over to his corner and found that he wasn’t there. She felt her shoulders hunch.

“Surely, you are not disappointed by my absence?” his voice said from behind her.

She jumped and turned around to look at him.

“Um -I, No, I just…I have something for you.” She stammered

He cocked his head slightly, almost quizzically, but remained silent. She continued to stare up at him with wide eyes and suddenly realized that she needed to actually move.

_Engage brain, Elinor!_

She turned and put her messenger bag down and dug out the book she had brought with her. She bit her lip and turned back around to him, her eyes still on the book.

“I-um…From our conversations, it seems you appreciate art. One of my former co-workers went to the Louvre two years ago and brought me this. I thought you’d like to have it,” she pushed it out to him, her cheeks on fire.

He looked down at the book in her hands and then back at her face. Gingerly, he took it. To fill the stiff silence, she continued.

“Unfortunately, I’ve never had an opportunity to go over. When I do, I intend to devote most of my time to museums. My former co-worker only spent a few hours in the Louvre and the Catacombs. Honestly, I could have killed him…but he got me a T-shirt.”

Thrawn looked at her then, as if he finally realized she was there.

“Supposedly it says: ‘Someone I know went to the Louvre but all I got was this shirt.’ I can’t be certain though because it’s in Mandurian.”

_Stop talking Elinor!_

“Thank you, Dr. Savona,” he said gravely.

“Oh, uh – you’re welcome,” she turned halfway to her desk but turned back again to face him, “Please, call me Elinor.”

He nodded.

 

The next month was spent much the same way as the last one was spent. She would tirelessly comb through every coupling, cable, converter, compressor, servo, booster, chip and frame isolating what was likely to be useful from what could be melted down; clearly moving closer to the picture inside her mind of the finished product.

He would watch her and often while she worked disassembling half of his ship, once the pride of the Imperial Navy, they would talk, as her music played in the background. Her taste in music was wide-ranging based on his previous study and he found he rather liked some of what she referred to as “classical” pieces.

She enjoyed the company without the expectation of something else and found she truly looked forward to their often-times intense discussions which had easily moved from art and history to politics, economics, religion, society and science. He was so unlike everyone else. In a world that prized consistency, it was a rarity. She found herself more and more engrossed. Would she say they were friends? Perhaps.

 

Thrawn sat in his office studying the reports. There had been a series of incidents on Decks 27, 28 and 29. Several technicians working in that area had been injured or made ill over several weeks. Reports from CMO Yermentic had indicated standard occupational hazards to be the cause, but the location and timing of the injuries did not line up.

He was looking for a pattern; an indicator of a saboteur.

The stormtrooper guard signaled he had a visitor.

Ezra Bridger.

Slowly the Grand Admiral acknowledged and ordered him to proceed. Bridger did not normally come out of his hiding place on Deck 20 and he was mildly curious why the boy was at his door.

The young Jedi walked in, slowly. Thrawn arched an eye brow. He looked pale and drawn, much older than he did when they were over Lothal.

“Bridger, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?” Thrawn asked dryly.

The boy looked at him vacantly, his mouth ajar slightly. He blinked slowly.

“They’re gone,” he whispered.

Thrawn frowned.

“Bridger, are you unwell?”

The Jedi shook his head vehemently as if to clear it. “No, a lot of people died suddenly. It’s like a whole world was – was…murdered!”

Thrawn’s jaw clenched and his eyes hardened as he stood. He realized he probably felt only a fraction of the uneasiness Ezra did, given that the boy could literally _feel_ the death and destruction, but for Thrawn who knew why…

_The Death Star_.

The young man collapsed onto the floor heaving.

“CMO Yermentic to my office please, discretely if you would.” Thrawn ordered quietly into his com.

 

When Ezra woke, he didn’t open his eyes immediately. His chest still ached with the pain of having so much devastation channeled into him by his connection with the Force. Would Kanan feel this same way, if he were here? A fresh wave of anguish wash over him and he flinched.

“You gave us quite the scare,” said a woman’s voice.

Ezra slowly opened his eyes to find an older woman and Grand Admiral Thrawn standing over him. Ezra must have made a face because the woman laughed.

“Admiral, I must insist you leave me to my patient. He needs his rest.”

“One moment, if I may Dr. Yermentic?” The Chiss smiled thinly

“Yes, sir. No talking about those ridiculous Earth television programs, though.” Dr. Yermentic waved a finger between the two.

“Of course not,” Thrawn soothed.

“Earth, what?” Ezra blinked.

Thrawn shrugged, “It is unimportant. However, I am interested to know why you decided to tell me about this…event.”

Ezra looked down at his hands and then around at his surroundings. He was in a clean, crisp room, likely in sick bay. The lights were muted, and the bed was comfortable. If he were a patient – a real patient – he would likely be given food, clean clothes, a place to bathe; all the dignities one would hope for as a being trying to make their way in the galaxy.

On Lothal though, everything had been a fight. The Empire had made it that way. An Empire ruled by a tyrant that installed monsters to guard his conquered domain.

Monsters…like the one before him.

“I thought you would know what it was.” Ezra finally looked up at the Grand Admiral.

The Chiss had either schooled himself very well – his facial muscles, body stance and emotions were unresponsive - or he was not surprised. The Grand Admiral, he had noticed, was usually insensitive to Ezra’s subtle attempts at reading his emotional state.

The young Jedi was not entirely sure if it was a lack on his part or on Thrawn’s.

Thrawn did not respond immediately, so Ezra continued.

“I got the impression you didn’t want it to happen.” He said quietly.

At this, the Chiss turned sharply away from him but remained silent. Despite the dim lighting, from his profile, the glowing eyes looked subdued.

“Yes,” he said heavily.

Ezra waited.

“I attempted to stop it, in my own way. I was unsuccessful,” his accent was thicker than usual, perhaps heavy with emotion.

Ezra opened his mouth to respond; offer some words of hope or comfort but stopped. This was Grand Admiral Thrawn and he knew about _it_.

_He’s a monster!_

As if he heard Ezra’s thoughts, Thrawn straightened, “I will leave you to rest. Do as Dr. Yermentic orders. She does not take kindly to obstinate patients.”

 

Elinor entered the lab, made her music selection for the day, warmed up some of the more sluggish equipment and was setting up her check list when he strode in. She smiled at him.

“I was beginning to think you lost your way,” she teased.

“It is fortunate, you did not come searching for me, or you would need rescuing,” he replied dryly.

She turned to him when she felt him step closer to her.

“Is everything ok?” her brow furrowed.

It was very unlike him to be late. He also seemed…different. The way he held himself – it wasn’t his usual confident stride. He was tired. Wary.

Elinor could almost feel a wave of sadness radiating from him. Without thinking she moved her hand to his helmet, where she imagined his face would be. She gently stroked the metal there, he moved his own hand up to meet hers. For a long moment, the world stood still around her, but he was there with her.

Her heart leapt.

_Let go Elinor!_

She exhaled and slowly removed her hand from his.

“I-um think the music I picked out today will cheer you up.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, it’s a compilation of things. Some old, some new. I’ve got Elvis, Earth Wind and Fire, Fleetwood Mac, The Black Eyed Peas and Bruno Mars. If we get through it all, I might be nice and play you some Schubert.”

 

Elinor was sitting at her desk picking at a power cell when Gilad Pellaeon came into the lab. As soon as he entered, Thrawn’s head snapped up and the old captain acknowledged his superior with a stiff nod, cognizant not to jeopardize his identity. Elinor noticed the difference in Thrawn’s posture almost immediately, looked up at him and turned to follow his gaze.

“Oh, hello.” She said, standing up and approaching Pellaeon.

“Ma’am,” he nodded with a small smile.

She wiped her hand on a rag and extended it out “I’m Elinor Savona, we haven’t met.”

“I’m Captain Gilad Pellaeon, Dr. Savona. I must say my visit to formally meet you is long overdue, and I must apologize for it.” He accepted her hand and gently shook it.

“That’s quite alright, Captain. I understand. We’ve been very busy. I realize right now we are only in Phase I of the project which unfortunately is the most destructive phase, but once we get all the needed components, you should start seeing noticeable improvements to the base.” Ellie looked at the captain.

“We are very impressed with your work, ma’am.” He said stiffly.

“Thank you…when you say ‘we’, do you mean…?”

Pellaeon simply looked at her politely. Thrawn smiled behind his helmet. She was after another box of books, from the “Jerk in Charge” it seemed.

“Uh, that is to say, the entire base, ma’am.” The captain finally clarified.

“Ah.”

Pellaeon’s eyes rested on the armored man standing behind her.

“Excuse me, ma’am, might I have a word with your body guard?”

“Sure.”

 

Thrawn moved beside Pellaeon as the older man apologized again, the third time, for the interruption.

“It’s quite alright Captain,” the Grand Admiral said soothingly.

“The com officers don’t know what to make of it.” Pellaeon sighed, relieved that his actions had not angered his superior.

Such fear was an unfortunate residue of being in the Imperial Navy for so long. A fear, Thrawn loathed and one he hoped would dissipate onboard the Chimaera. The younger officers and crewers were much more willing to accept his command style. The managerial concept of “shoot first, ask questions later” was starting to become abstract to them rather than the norm.

The older officers, however, were still very much afraid of displeasing high command, and were skittish around the Grand Admiral.

“We shall see.”

 

Tech Team 12 came in for a break and Tomae sauntered over to her.

“How’s it hanging Dr. Savona?” he grinned at her.

She looked quizzically up at him.

“Excuse me?”

“How’s it hanging?” Tomae continued to smile.

“Um…”

“I’m practicing my slang!” he interjected proudly, puffing his chest out and smirking down at her.

Elinor couldn’t help but giggle.

“I think you need to practice a little more, Tomae. That’s usually something you’d ask a man.” She covered her laughter as Tomae’s eyes widened and his face contorted in embarrassment.

“I’m so sorry! I – uh. I –“

“Tomae, don’t worry about it!” she smiled comfortingly, “Slang is a strange thing. You’ll get it right the next time.”

He nodded and smiled, perhaps reassured there would be a next time. Elinor felt a little pang of worry over that. Tomae continued to seek out her attention, even with a fully armored Thrawn standing over her. Either he was serious, or he was young and foolish. She wanted him to be young and foolish. She would have to ask Thrawn if he would, for her sake, flat out forbid her to date, thus allowing her an excuse to deny Tomae and any others.

_You are such a coward! Just tell him you aren’t interested…Oh, but you are… just not in him._

The thought entered her brain like food dye being dropped into crystal clear water. The world stood still, but this time she wasn’t holding his hand.

She felt like a silly girl. She was there to fix things, make things work. That was what she did; that was who she was. She would quietly go about her life and then leave.

He was intelligent and rational; he wouldn’t even notice when she finally did go.

 

Thrawn listened to the message again. Long and short signals

Long. Short.

Long. Long. Long.

Short. Long. Long.

The com officer looked up at him and frowned.

“I’ve never heard anything like it, sir, and the protocol droid has no record of it.” She said apologetically

He shook his head and listened again.

“Vector?”

“Point oh oh two off from our current location. Portside shift.”

Thrawn arched an eye brow. Someone knew they were here.

“Have you contacted Commander Axon?” The Grand Admiral was starting to get an unsettled feeling in between his shoulder blades.

“Yes sir, we’ve established both his and Trooper Rogyn’s location. They are near to their original point of entry,” Pellaeon confirmed quietly.

“The signals point of origin?”

“From the surface, sir.” The com officer shifted uncomfortably, “A remote location, on the largest continent, an area called…Russia, I think.”

Thrawn’s eyes narrowed. Martin Tassi’s illegal activities involved individuals from that same area.

_This was a message to someone aboard the Chimaera._

The unsettled feeling between his shoulder blades flared into a burning need to return to the lab.

“Send it to decrypt – have Commander Klary investigate Earth languages and other planetary forms of communication. Notify me immediately when you have something,” Thrawn turned his glowing eyes back to Pellaeon. “I will return to the lab. Something tells me, Captain, our Head Engineer may be in danger.”

 

Without Thrawn to talk to, and with the self-doubts pooling in her mind, Ellie decided it would be an excellent time to go out into the field with Team 12. Dana, the engineer on the team was checking the heater connections on Decks 28 and 29. Elinor helped her tag out the annealers and slide the locks into place while the technicians started assembling tools to chip away the thick grim and oxide coating the inside of the massive furnaces.

Ellie donned her overalls, boots and gloves. She carried her hard hat and face shield with her as she called for everyone to assemble for the brief. Confined spaces were always a hazard, and a safety discussion was needed, especially with some of the younger techs on the team.

Briefly Elinor’s face reddened, as she remembered her last trip into a confined space. She had ended up laid out in front of Thrawn, half naked and covered in goop.

_Idiot!_

She pushed the memory aside as well as the feeling of inferiority it brought her.

“Alright, we have a confined space scenario. Everyone who needs ventilators should have them?” she looked around the room to see the appropriate heads move up and down.

“Everyone has the right tools? Oh, make sure to use your lanyards – the last thing we need is to fry one of those hydro-spanner things you’re all so fond of when we fire these things up. Speaking of firing them up, Dana and I tagged and locked them out. There were no issues with the lock out and so everything looks good from that end.” She paused. This was the part of the brief that they needed to understand, the preamble was just jargon to them.

“You know the drill. You have a spotter on the outside and two to three scrubbers on the inside. If someone gets hot or uncomfortable, don’t be unreasonable. Get out. The spotter can take over. There is no trophy for getting out looking like you scrubbed a furnace and if you faint, I’m sure your team mates will torment you forever.”

This was met with good natured chuckles, but Ellie continued.

“I know what the worst-case scenario is and I’d rather take a few breaths outside than my last on the inside, so be smart. Call for help if you need it.”

She paused and looked around. They understood.

“Any questions?” Elinor asked.

Nothing.

“Ok. Happy scraping!” She grinned.

 

She entered the round tube on her hands and knees and proceeded to scour the side of the monstrous annealer. Dana had closed the hatch behind her as she worked on controlling her breathing, she would make random comments over the intercom to the other engineer, who would politely try to respond to Elinor’s often jerky line of thought.

It was no use. Dana was confused by Ellie and Ellie soon discovered that Dana was no Thrawn. The two decided on comfortable silence instead.

An hour into the scraping, everything went straight to hell.

 

He rushed around the corner into the cavernous room that was Elinor Savona’s lab only to find it was empty. A stab of fear coursed through him as he keyed his com.

“Pyrondi,” came the instant replay.

“Lieutenant, please locate Dr. Savona.”

“Yes, sir!”

 

At first it was a sense that she couldn’t quite catch her breath, she stopped to rest a moment, which was when she heard it. The unmistakable purr of a furnace turning on and ramping up. She gasped and screamed for Dana. There was no answer. She crawled to the porthole and wiped the thicker grim away to look out.

Dana Grav sat in the desk chair, but her head was thrown back in an unnatural and alarming way, her arms were at her sides. Ellie banged on the porthole, wiped away more of the gunk and realized Dana would not be helping her.

The other woman was dead.

Elinor screamed as the heat of the world, and the heat of the Chimaera’s furnaces rose up around her.

 

Grand Admiral Thrawn, very rarely had the burden of dread. But the feeling mustering within him, could only be described as such.

It was slow and painful.

A gapping maw of unknown terror making his blood pump faster through his body, thus making it all the more apparent to his usual clinical-self that something was very wrong. Pyrondi had traced her via CT10 to Deck 29, she had gone down with one of the Tech Teams - to do what, he did not know - but the little monitoring devise had lost track of her at the junction of Sections 10/12 and 11/13.

He raced out of the turbolift and down the hall toward the starboard side annealing furnaces. The cries were barely discernible from the low hum of electronic, hydraulic, pneumatic, and mechanical systems that made up this section of the ship. He sprinted toward it and found several techs laying prone outside one of the annealers – the heat radiating over the room.

“Someone untagged it out. The furnaces…” the man croaked.

“Where is she?” Thrawn demanded.

“Section 10, Phase 2, she’s with Grav.”

Thrawn keyed the universal emergency com code as he ran to Section 10.

“Yermentic.” His CMO called.

“Deck 29. A team of technicians. Annealers Section 10 area.” He growled and ended the connection before she could respond.

 

Elinor removed her hard hat and face shield. She wiped the sweat from her brow, but she let the tears remain.

_What a terrible way to end a life._

She thought about Drew. He would never know what happened to her and he would be all alone. First their mother, then their father and now her.

What could she have done differently?

Oh, so many things…she could have been more outgoing. She could have given other people a chance. She could have taken more risks. Wasn’t she going to do those things? She had wanted to…she had wanted to find someone…wanted to fall in love…wanted to have children…wanted to be remembered…but now….

She put her gloves down on the floor of the furnace, laid her head down on them, curled in around herself and sobbed as the heat enveloped her.

 

Thrawn drew the weapon at his hip when he saw Dana Grav. She had been shot in the head from close range, he swept the area with his gaze. Suddenly he heard running footsteps behind him, he turned and came blaster tip to blaster tip with Major Cran.

“Uh, sir.” Cran hastily banished his weapon.

“Major,” Thrawn nodded tersely.

Thrawn’s attention now turned to the furnace. He looked through the porthole and hissed.

“She is there!”

Cran was already on his com barking out orders.

“The furnaces are being shutdown” he called to the Grand Admiral.

Thrawn had already opened the hatch and was dragging her out by her ankles. Cran helped him cradle her head as he lowered her to the floor. She was glowing with the heat.

“Bring Yermentic.” The order was unnecessary, Cran was already running toward the bank of turbolifts to assist the medics.

He pulled off her boots and unzipped her coveralls, slipping her arms and legs out. He ripped open her shirt to allow her skin to breath and felt her neck for a pulse. It was there. Slow. Faint. But there. He elevated her legs and watched as she began to shift more into the visible spectrum.

Yermentic charged in, followed closely by Cran. She raised both eyebrows upon seeing the armored figure next to the woman on the floor.

“I’m wondering why you keep me around, sir.” She quipped as she knelt next to Elinor, checking her wrists and forehead.

“You are humorous,” Thrawn commented dryly as he watched the doctor.

Carefully the CMO, removed a syringe from her kit.

“Divert your eyes, gentlemen.” She looked pointedly up at Thrawn as she pulled Elinor’s trousers down and shoved the needle into her outer thigh. “We need to get her up to sick back. She needs fluids and will likely be more prone to seizure activity given the stress on her body. My understanding is, excessive heat is very unhealthy for epileptics.”

Thrawn stirred.

“Very well doctor.”

 

Her lips were cracked, and her throat was dry. Pyrondi came to tell her the news.

Dana was dead. They also lost three techs.

_….Kieper_ …

_…Dwil_ …

… _Tomae_ …

She turned her head into the pillow to muffle her sobs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello,
> 
> Once again if you have any questions, comments, concerns, or money (yes, please!) feel free to leave them...notice I didn't include criticisms? 
> 
> Oh, alright. Hit me with it! 
> 
> This get darker in the next chapter for which I apologize in advance. 
> 
> Spoiler Alert: When Thrawn is pissed off you should not see him with rose-colored glasses. He's not a teddy bear.  
> Note: Don't piss Thrawn off.


	15. Puzzle Pieces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Implied Torture
> 
> In This Chapter:  
> The assassin is found, interrogated and provides a familiar name: Yuri Gornovek (Channel 11 News from Chapter 9?)  
> Thrawn supplements the interrogation with an interview that leaves the Grand Admiral questioning his own motives  
> Elinor meets Ezra. He knows her secret and she's left wondering about Newton.  
> Thrawn, Pellaeon and Cran wonder how best to deal with Gornovek...Enter Pyrondi.  
> Ezra has some information for Thrawn. Perhaps he's not such a monster after all.  
> Rogyn has some interesting news from the surface...the likely reason how Gornovek knew so much about the Chimaera...

The Grand Admiral was furious. Murderously so.

To have a high-ranking Imperial officer in such a state was not so uncommon. To be Imperial was to have a short temper and a large turbolaser cannon, it seemed. But Grand Admiral Thrawn?

Thrawn was different.

Alexei Bolotov’s contact told him to be cautious of the response. Expect to get caught. He had memorized the layout of the massive warship that remained hidden from the planet’s population. He became familiar with her history, her crew, her cargo, her specs and capabilities, but mostly her commander.

He was schooled in the man’s appearance so as not to betray his shock upon seeing an alien for the first time. He had committed to memory the alien’s career relative to events he did not know or understand. Alexei decided it was futile to try to guess what Thrawn would do, once the plan was carried out. If or rather, when, he was caught it would likely be very unpleasant.

It was.

The CT10 had spotted him removing the furnace lock and programing the annealers to pre-heat. As he made for the bay of escape pods, a woman - Alexei recognized her as Crissa Pyrondi - smiled as she walked passed him. The hair on the back of his neck stood up. The moment she was out of his peripheral vision, he felt the barrel of her blaster at the back of his head. Five stormtroopers suddenly appeared to restrain him as the Lieutenant snarled at him.

“You piece of slime, you think you can slither away?” she balled her fists in anger.

Alexei simply smirked. Women. Not built for combat.

Pyrondi smirked back. And punched him.

“That was for Elinor and Tech Team 12.”

 

The interrogation had been long and tedious, but they had gotten what they could.

A name - Yuri Gornovek.

Thrawn studied the dossier on the man. Gornovek had amassed power and wealth rapidly by arms dealing and drug trafficking. He had capitalized on political and economic instabilities to assemble a small army. The government in that region was corrupt and easily bought, they turned their collective heads easily if the money was good.

Not dissimilar to Coruscant, Thrawn noted with disgust.

The man was obviously dangerous and a menace to society, but why would he be so threatened by Elinor Savona, that he would send someone to infiltrate an alien vessel, unbeknownst to the world below, to kill her? What did she know? What did Gornovek _think_ she knew?

It was time to pay Mr. Bolotov a personal visit.

 

Elinor drifted aimlessly in darkness. Occasionally a ripple of activity would disturb the gentle plane of her sleep, but it would soon even out into nothingness. She preferred the nothingness.

It didn’t feel. It didn’t hurt. She could just _be_.

It was in this state of being that she saw those beautiful eyes. They were staring back at her, bright and red, full of power and want.

_What do you want?_

She was asking the question to herself, she knew. The eyes had already told her what they wanted. Elinor was jostled around. Her plane of existence was no longer nothingness. She didn’t want that. She wanted to go back to not feeling.

_Wait!_

The eyes looked at her again, face regal and blue.

_What happens if…?_

Warmth enveloped her as he reassured her with those compelling eyes. He was worried for her, yes. But he was confident. He wouldn’t hurt her, he would do everything he could not to hurt her.

She decided she didn’t hurt as bad, the pain was a little less, and she felt a little more comforted. Realization broke.

_You’re not real!_

The eyes narrowed in mirth. He was real to her. Very real. Very near.

_I want you._

The eyes flickered, and the beautiful blue face hardened. It cannot be.

_You said you wouldn’t hurt me!_

Pain seared through her. That was it. That was why she could never open herself up. She could never truly show herself to anyone completely. Ultimately, they would leave her. There was no point in letting anyone see because - she would always know, she could see it happen before it did – they would hurt her and leave her.

She turned away from him, then. His beautiful red eyes were pleading with her as she ran toward consciousness.

She gasped awake, trembling.

“Elinor! Elinor! You’re safe, dear. You’re safe!” Dr. Yermentic was wiping the sweat from her forehead.

She did her best to stifle her sobs, but in the end the CMO gave her something to “help her rest easier.”

Ellie fell back down into darkness. He did not come to see her again.

 

The Chiss had worked to remain calm. He had prepared himself with options on how best to respond to Alexei Bolotov. Had studied the man’s life – from birth up until two days ago. Had studied the interrogation reports….had studied Russian art and history.

His contact had subdued a crewman from the Chimaera on a limited “shore leave”, killing him, thus allowing Bolotov to assume his identity. The imposter became entrenched as part of the technical crew working primarily on Decks 27, 28 and 29 – those decks seeing the uptick in occupational injuries. He was supposed to get close to Elinor Savona and when the time was right, kill her.

_Why?_

Thrawn was going to find that out.

Now.

He entered the cell to find Bolotov sitting on the cot.

“Ah, the man, the myth, the legend.” He said in heavily accented Basic.

“Mr. Bolotov,” Thrawn nodded coolly. “I have come to discuss your interrogation report.”

“I’m sure. What would the great Grand Admiral like to know?” the man taunted.

“Why does Mr. Gornovek have an interest in assassinating Elinor Savona?”

“If I knew that, I would be Boss and not in here talking to you.”

Thrawn smiled thinly. “I am confident you have some educated opinion on the matter.”

“I was told to get close to her. I got close to her.” Suddenly Bolotov sneered up at Thrawn. “Have you been close to her?”

Thrawn aimed to deflect with another question but Bolotov interrupted him.

“She smells good, yes?” He stood up and stretched. Smirking at the alien standing in front of him “Too bad you cannot enjoy it, no? I wonder how she tastes.”

Thrawn lunged toward him, grabbing the man’s throat and lifting him off the floor. His red eyes boiled with rage, but his face was otherwise impassive, blue lips pressed together in a thin line.

His voice though, was hard enough to cut through durasteel.

“Perhaps, Mr. Bolotov, you would care to answer _my_ questions?”

Bolotov gurgled a laugh. “Did I hit nerve? Do you want her? Does she even know it?”

Thrawn threw him across the cell and slowly stalked over to one of the wall panels. He removed his tunic and without taking his eyes off Alexei Bolotov, he keyed in a code. The panel slid away to reveal a small curved blade with a knuckled grip. The Chiss wrapped it around his right hand and triggered a release. Tiny serrated claws extended from both sides of the knife.

“Shall we begin again, Mr. Bolotov?”

 

She woke gently. Her eyes hurt, and her head throbbed - another seizure she decided. It must have been. She sat up slowly and assessed the sterile environment of the base’s medical area. Sick bay, they called it.

Why was it a bay, she wondered idly.

It was then Ellie became aware of someone watching her. She turned and found a man, really a boy, looking over at her from the bed next to hers.

“What are you in for?” she quipped.

He continued staring.

“I see it’s gunna be a long stay.” She said hoarsely

The boy blinked. “Oh uh, hi! Sorry.”

“No problem. Happens to the best of us.” She cracked her neck and groaned.

“I’m Ezra Bridger.”

“Elinor Savona.” She nodded to him.

“I know.” Ezra commented softly.

“Of course, you do. Everybody knows. It’s the world’s worst kept secret.” She didn’t know why she was taking her snarky-ness out on this poor kid. It wasn’t his fault she got toasted in an oven and four people died. She stopped rubbing her neck and her hands fell into her lap.

Ezra apparently saw the change in her because he asked softly.

“Elinor, may I ask you a question?”

“Sure.” She sniffed.

“Do you have dreams?”

Ellie frowned. What kind of question was that? Of course, she did. Everyone did. The REM cycle was well documented and a needed part of healthy sleep. Dreams were part of that cycle and considered completely normal.

“Of course, I do.”

Ezra lowered his voice slightly and looked at her earnestly.

“Do they predict the future?”

Once again, in just a matter of days, the world stopped. She was suspended.

Elinor looked over at him, expecting to see a silly smirk. All she saw was the tired, seriousness of someone who had seen and done more than his years should have permitted him.

“What do you mean?” her voice trembled a little.

“You dreamed something important – something big and it eventually came true? Someone got sick or you met someone, or you went somewhere? It came true didn’t it?

_He knows!_

“I don’t know what…you’re talking about.” she tried to say it convincingly but even to her ears she sounded like a robot.

He leaned forward. “I have the same thing happen to me.”

Her eyes widened, and she leaned forward a little too.

“You do?” she whispered.

“It’s called the Force.” Ezra confirmed

“Like Newtonian mechanics?” Elinor looked skeptically at him.

Ezra’s smile was patient. “No. I’ll try to explain, once you feel better.”

 

He stood in the refresher stall letting the steam of the shower permeate his senses. The blood had long been washed away. The stench of it had slowly been replaced with cleanliness. The sound of the man’s screams would not leave his conscience though.

He had done terrible things. Both in the name of the Ascendancy and the Empire. Guilt could destroy a warrior, if he chose to let it fester. Thrawn had never let it get that far. His motives were always sound. For the betterment of the whole, for the greater good, they were acts required by one to save many more than just himself. Many more.

This time it was different. This time it was just one.

_Her_.

It had been for her.

To save her from a threat he had placed her in.

After slight convincing Bolotov was more than willing to offer his opinions and the basis for those opinions. Gornovek wanted her dead because she could restore the Chimaera. For whatever reason the Russian arms dealer wanted the ship incapacitated. The signal from the planet was a form of communication called Morse Code and the message sent was “N -O -W” signaling Bolotov to act on his assassination attempt. When asked about the timing, the man was ignorant.

It remained unclear as to how Gornovek became aware of the Chimaera’s existence, though Thrawn suspected the missing crewman had been tortured into revealing it. How did they know to single out the crewman in order to extract information from him?

The Grand Admiral had immediately called a halt to all transports going to the surface for reprieve. Bolotov swore he was the only mole onboard. Still, the Chiss would not risk it. The Chimaera would receive her usual supply shipments but there was to be no personnel going to or from the surface unless necessary and all identifications would be reconfirmed.

He finally turned off the water and stood dripping.

If she only knew what he was. What he was capable of.

If she saw him for what he _truly_ was, would she still look at him the same way?

 

Pellaeon and Cran sat across from Thrawn as they listened to the message again.

“Grand Admiral… this is Yuri Gornovek. I am sure you’re aware, I was most interested in your Dr. Savona…Not in the way, that you may think.” There was a slight chuckle.

“She may not be needed. I may deal with you directly, no?” the accent was thick, the same as Alexei Bolotov’s.

“I am business man. I understand you are reasonable. I want to expand my marketability… A man of your skill would do well here. Between the two of us, we would be very successful. I think we should meet. A neutral location, yes?” there was a pause.

“Let me know. Keep whatever is left of Alexei. Consider it a gift”

Thrawn leaned forward and steepled his fingers, “Your thoughts?”

“He’s taking great pleasure in taunting you, sir.” Pellaeon said angrily.

“It’s likely a trap.” Cran offered.

“I am certain it is, Major.” Thrawn nodded, “But I wonder how familiar is Gornovek with our technology?”

Pellaeon and Cran looked at each other.

“What did you have in mind, sir?” Pellaeon asked cautiously.

“A neutral location, remote, with poor weather conditions. Tell me Captain, is Lieutenant Pyrondi still the appropriate choice for precision turbolaser fire?”

 

Elinor had been discharged from sick bay. Yermentic insisted she take personal time to grieve. So, she sat in the lab, in the dark with Roy Orbison’s “Only the Lonely” playing softly in the background.

He found her there staring off into nothingness. When he came into her field of view she looked up.

“Hi.” She said softly. Her eyes were haunted, dark circles underneath them indicating she had not slept.

Thrawn slowly moved to her and stood in front of her. She kept her eyes on him as he did.

“I’m sorry.” She croaked, “I should have waited for you. If I did, you probably would have stopped it. They’d probably be alive. I should have…I’m sorry. I’m so sor-“ she broke apart before him.

He held her as she sobbed against his armor.

 

Later that evening, once again sitting in his office reading the ship’s reports, his desk com buzzed. Ezra Bridger was here to see him. The young Jedi walked in looking much livelier than the last time he had been there.

“Bridger.” Thrawn stood with his hands clasped behind his back.

“Thrawn.” The boy nodded.

There was a long pause as they assessed the other.

“I thought you would want to know…the reason why all those people died.” He watched the Chiss very carefully as he spoke. “It’s gone. Something happened and it’s not there anymore. There’s no threat of it happening again.”

Ezra caught it. The unmistakable ripple of relief covered quickly by the Grand Admirals cool façade.

“Thank you for the information.” Thrawn said calmly.

Ezra nodded and left the office. Perhaps, he was not so much a monster after all.

 

Pellaeon scowled at the com officer.

“What in the nine hells are you talking about?”

“I’m sorry sir, but the man said he is Trooper Rogyn and he needs to speak with either you or the Grand Admiral.” The com officer looked just as confused as the captain.

“Why didn’t he make contact by commlink?”

“He implied that he lost it, sir.”

Pellaeon rolled his eyes. Damn stormtroopers. He was surprised half of them knew which end of the carbine was which. “Transfer to my com,” he growled.

As it turned out, it _was_ Trooper Rogyn and he had some _very_ interesting information.

Information the Grand Admiral would want to know. Pellaeon spun on his heels and immediately sought out his commanding officer.

 

Thrawn steepled his fingers.

“I’m sorry, sir.” Rogyn said softly over the com speaker.

“I understand Trooper. A transport will be on its way to the surface within 12 hours, I trust that is acceptable?”

“Yes, sir.”

“A new commlink code will be issued to you. Axon’s code will be invalidated. Do you know if he was armed when he left?”

“Yes, sir. Service weapon only.”

The Chiss nodded once.

“Do you have any thoughts as to his motivation for suddenly abandoning his post?”

There was a pregnant pause.

“He expressed an interest in the local female population, sir.” Rogyn answered stiffly.

“I see.”

Rogyn continued. “It shouldn’t have taken this long though…”

“Are you saying he has done this before?” the Grand Admiral asked sharply.

“Uh. Just once previously, sir.” Rogyn discomfort was apparent by the strain in his voice.

Thrawn leaned closer to the com.

“When was his first disappearance, Trooper?”

“Two weeks ago, sir.”

It had been two weeks since the assassination attempt on Elinor. Thrawn felt his sclera burn. Axon was likely working with Gornovek.

“If Axon should return, seek to capture him for further questioning.”

“Yes, sir.”

“If you must obtain him through force, do so. Do not let him escape. I will understand, should he no longer be able to answer questions.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello,
> 
> I really debated with the implied torture scene. In the end I view Thrawn as someone who would abhor something like torture HOWEVER if he is pushed to his limits; if he is desperate then... He can usually maneuver his way out of needing to do stuff like this just by logic and deduction alone. In this particular case, he's not getting it. Also he's emotionally involved which frustrates him. And now that Axon has turned rogue he's superiorly ticked off. Don't worry...the calm cool Grand Admiral will be back...um...in a few more chapters...
> 
> (blushing profusely and off to get alcohol.)


	16. Progress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning:   
> NSFW, Author Blushed When Writing
> 
> In This Chapter:  
> Elinor has a difficult time getting over the Team 12 loss  
> Ezra's assurances help her heal not just the new wounds but old ones as well  
> Q: What do the Head Engineer and the Grand Admiral do on an average day? A: Destroying stuff  
> The Imperials learn to party via catalog  
> Elinor finally "sees" Thrawn while Axon and Gornovek scheme.

Elinor Savona prided herself on not needing help. She was strong. She was independent. She was confident. And she was falling apart at the seams.

The first few days were the worst. She’d walk into the lab zombie-like convinced that Thrawn would shoot her, thinking she was an imposter. She looked horrible, even by her standards.

Ellie didn’t believe in makeup – why bother? Too many freckles, too little time. She did like to style her pixie cut and wear long earrings though, but that had gone by the way-side.

She didn’t sleep. Couldn’t eat without feeling nauseated and hated interacting with people…including her body guard.

She stopped playing music.

After two weeks of this, Elinor trudged into the lab with a can of Diet Coke in one hand and a bottle of Tylenol in the other. She had just woken up from a fitful sleep, fifteen minutes prior after only having fallen asleep an hour before that. She was late and groggy and mad at herself for being late and groggy.

She walked into the lab and found it completely empty – except for him.

“Wha?”

“Lieutenant Pyrondi sent them to their tasks. They already know what needs doing.” Thrawn said softly from his corner.

“Well, that was easy.” Ellie commented dryly.

“You will return to your quarters to rest.”

Elinor turned to him and snarled vehemently. “Really? Who died and left you boss?”

In just a few steps he was on her. He grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her toward a piece of sheet metal propped up against one of the lab tables. He pressed her face close to the shiny surface.

“Do you not see? Look at what you are becoming. Are you trying to complete a murderer’s task?” His voice was icy and cutting.

It was then that she looked at her reflection in the metal and gasped.

She no longer recognized herself. The woman looking back at her was frail and gaunt, her eyes were haunted and blood shot. Ellie wondered how long it was since the woman looking blearily back at her had slept. Her hair was a mess, had she even showered?

Elinor relaxed in Thrawn’s grip. He gently let her go. She bowed her head and nodded.

“I-um..I think I’ll go back to my room.”

“I will escort you.”

She didn’t argue.

 

She slept.

And slept.

And slept.

Apparently, she slept for two straight days, waking only to replenish herself with nutrients and void her bladder.

She awoke on Day 2 to a tapping sound at the door to her room. She pressed the button for the door to slide open, squinting at the bright light coming from the hallway.

The boy from sick bay – Ezra Bridger.

“What?” she wanted to sound irritated, instead it came out sounding forlorn.

“I thought we could talk? About how you have…um..” he waited

She didn’t know him. Why should she trust him? She didn’t trust anyone anymore.

It hurt too much to get close to people. In Ellie’s experience they either disappointed you, intentionally hurt you or if they fortuitously didn’t do either of those things, they would ultimately leave you. It was an exercise in futility. So why did she invite him in?

_You’re an idiot, Elinor!_

“So?” she demanded as she stalked to her armchair.

The “Jerk in Charge” had slowly but surely given back her personal effects. A few weeks ago, she had entered her room to find her chair in the corner – she had squealed in delight upon seeing it. That seemed like a lifetime ago.

“I think I can help you.”

“Sure. What are you pushing? Pills? Essential Oils? A special diet?” she snapped.

“You have dreams. You’ve always had them. They scare you. They tell you things and show you things that almost always happen in the future.”

Elinor became very still and quiet.

“You tried to tell someone at one point. They were skeptical, even you were doubtful, perhaps believing you were going crazy. You found out you could suppress them artificially and so you did. This is something not many people have. It’s an energy that you can tap into. That’s how and why it happens.”

“Is that Force?” she asked.

“The Force, yes.” He nodded. “It’s a power to be used for knowledge and –“

“I don’t want to use it!” Elinor was on her feet now. She looked fiercely at him and felt the sting of tears “I hate it. I saw my mother die. I saw my father die. Before it even happened! And I couldn’t stop it!” She screamed.

There was a pregnant pause as she collapsed to the floor and sobbed into her sleeve. He walked over to her and knelt next to her. Gently he put his hand on her shoulder, she didn’t flinch away.

If Elinor could stand to explain herself, she would have told him it was a relief to finally tell someone that she didn’t _want_ it.

What if you could see the future, if you stopped taking a pill?

Wouldn’t any other person want to?

Wasn’t she crazy for not wanting to see the path forward?

As if he knew this, Ezra murmured softly, “You always have a choice, Elinor. You can use it. You can listen to it and trust in it or not. I think only you can decide. Maybe you travel a different path. Not everyone who is Force sensitive becomes a Jedi.”

“What’s a Jedi?” She sniffed

Ezra paused and smiled lopsidedly, “That’s a long story.”

Elinor sat up a bit. She somehow knew that Ezra was sincere in his response.

_She didn’t have to use it._

_She didn’t have to use it._

_She didn’t have to use it._

So many years of trying to hide from people that she didn’t want to see in a dream.

So many years spent with guilt over not wanting to see anything.

The burden, too-heavy at times lifted from her shoulders. She felt light and free as she wiped away tears.

“I’ve got some time.”

 

When she finally did come out of her room again, she was a little sadder about the state of the world than she had been a few weeks prior. She was a bit warier about life in general and missed her brother more than ever, but she was better, and the burden she had been carrying for so long was not as heavy.

In honor of the occasion she wore her grey dress and favorite earrings. She was determined to be Elinor again and perhaps maybe she could become a new, better version of herself.

It was rest day, at least for most of the technical staff, when she made her appearance. She crept in not wanting to attract a crowd, but as soon as the small crew on break saw her, they cheered.

After pats on the back and words of encouragement the group thinned, having to go back out to the field, and she saw him standing in his corner watching her. She bit down on her lip and shuffled over to him.

Without words he put his gloved hand up to her face, cupping her cheek.

“You are well.” He said.

“I am. Thanks to you.”

A long pause. She felt her face burn.

_Tell him, Elinor!_

“I missed you.” She looked at him, trying to decipher his reaction to her confession through his body language.

He cocked his head slightly moving his hand, so he could gently brush his knuckles against the side of her face.

“Perhaps we can listen to music?” he said his voice gentle.

“I would like that.”

 

Thrawn lay back.

In his mind’s eye, the grey dress was on the floor and she was in his bed. He groaned from the agony of not having her. Her eyes, her lips, her bare shoulders. All of her. He wanted all of her.

He could not have her.

The project was shifting into Phase II. most of the components needed to start repair and replacement activities were assembled. They would soon stage all the necessary pieces and tooling and begin the restoration process. Once completed, the Project would enter Phase III, Testing.

And after that…

After that, she would return home and be lost to him.

His thoughts traveled back to her words.

_I missed you_.

He would miss her too, when the time came.

In the meantime, though he could afford to imagine her by his side. Soft. Warm. Beautiful.

For just a little while he could have her, even if it was only in his mind.

 

Elinor Savona grew up on a farm, part of that life was being able to deal with malicious wildlife when it became a threat to the livelihood. She remembered having to scare away a possum late one night after it had attempted entry into their chicken coop. Dad’s .22 rifle was nothing like the weapon she held now. She didn’t like it then and she _really_ didn’t like it now.

She looked up at Thrawn, pitifully.

The argument had been something like: Please no. Please no. Please no, with each time being stubbornly denied by her body guard. He had insisted she learn, for those times he was not near.

_You could always just move into my room with me!_

Elinor blushed at the thought. He had watched with his arms folded as she lined up the pistol on the target, scrunched up her face, closed her eyes and pulled the trigger. Stupidly she fell backwards and landed on her rear end. She put the safety on and pushed the gun away as if it had contracted a contagious pathogen.

“Did I get it?” she asked with her head in her hands.

“No. But you are showing marked improvement. You hit a wall panel instead of the floor.” Thrawn’s voice was dripping with amusement.

“Stop enjoying this.” She shot him a glare.

“May I?” he held out his hand for the weapon.

“By all means!” Elinor handed it to him in exasperated relief.

He offered his other hand to her to help her up. She took it and her heart skipped a beat. He motioned for her to stand in front of the target again and wordlessly handed her the gun.

“No demonstration?” she asked disapprovingly.

“No.”

She pursed her lips as he shifted to stand behind her. Gently, almost unnoticed he put both hands on her hips.

“Straighten. Find your center of gravity. Steady your breathing.”

She was concentrating on the target as he was speaking, focusing on his instructions and after completing the last – inhaling, exhaling in steady gentle movements, she finally became aware of his closeness. Where his hands were. The smell of his armor and his own breathing – was it not quite as steady as it should be?

She pulled the trigger.

The shot hit the light fixture on the ceiling and the room was plunged into darkness. Other than the hissing sparks of the destroyed overhead the only sound that could be heard was Thrawn’s laughter.

“I’ll fix that.” Elinor said sheepishly.

 

Thrawn was needed, elsewhere. He wouldn’t say where. Ellie didn’t pry. She was left in the capable hands of Lieutenant Pyrondi and when the armored man strode away, leaving her strict instructions to “be cautious” and “call for help, if needed” she turned to Pyrondi and grinned devilishly.

“When the cat is away, shall the mice play?”

Pyrondi merely smirked.

“No ma’am. I value my life. If something happened to you, he’d kill me.”

She did, however, manage to convince her new keeper to let her search for the last few “treasures” needed for the casings and digital setups on Deck 8. Elinor did some poking around in “the hanger bay” and noticed again the strange metal spheres with side plating attached. They all had port holes, like they were someone’s artistic interpretation of an aquarium you’d see in a plastic surgeon’s office.

She crawled to the top of one and opened the hatch popping her head in.

She was fascinated.

It looked like some sort of flight simulator game console. Moving down the line, she determined that the three paneled two-pronged flight simulators were the best – loaded with all sorts of salvageable components. She’d have the maintenance crews drag them to the destructive testing section of the lab and start ripping them apart for usable scrap.

Ellie smiled.

 

He moved briskly toward the lab, relieved he’d finally see her. After preparations on the planetary surface and two days away, he needed the comfort of her presence. He heard the bass of the music playing. Elinor usually played this type of music when she was destroying something.

Thrawn smiled.

The smile faded quickly when he saw what she was destroying.

“Oh, hi!” she waved enthusiastically from underneath one of the Chimaera’s TIE Defenders, some component with tri-colored cabling dangling out of it, in her right hand. “Look what I found!”

She rolled out from underneath the fighter.

“This thing – I think it’s a simulator of some sort, is loaded! This is just what we need to meet our demand for digital components. The technology in this thing – it’s absolutely amazing!”

“I am aware.” Thrawn said dryly.

“You are?” Ellie asked with bright eyes. “What is it then?”

Thrawn looked at it and shook his head sadly. “A failed attempt at resolving a complicated problem.”

Elinor saw and felt the change in him. She studied her body guard as he gazed at the thing in complete ruin.

“Thrawn, I –“ she stepped closer to him, “I can put it back together.”

He looked down at her and for a long moment was silent.

“No Take what you need.”

 

She seemed oddly distracted one day, tired and pale. He was concerned she may have relapsed into a depression. Thrawn made a point of entering her field of vision during one of her moments of staring off into nothingness. When she noticed him looking at her, she shook her head and apologized.

“Sorry, I’m a bit out of it today.”

“It is obvious,” Thrawn commented

“Don’t hold back,” she grumbled under her breath.

“Do you require rest?”

“No. I – I don’t require it. I - …” she suddenly looked over at him.

“Thrawn.” She whispered.

“Yes?”

“Have you ever seen someone die?” her voice shook.

“I have.” He studied her face. Her dark eyes were sad and filled with regret.

“May I ask…have you ever…”

He thought she was going to ask him if he ever killed someone, and it was a topic of conversation he did not wish to enter given recent events.

He was not prepared for the question she _did_ ask.

“...have you ever seen it happen before it did?”

“I have anticipated losses in battle.”

“No…no, not like that…have you actually _seen_ it happen, before it does? How it will happen, and when. See what the person is wearing, what the weather is like on that day, how you feel about it, how other people act when it happens…all those things. Have you seen those things happen before they do?”

Thrawn stared at her for a long moment.

_Third Sight_

“No.”

She looked up from staring at her feet, “I saw my parents die…like that. I didn’t know what to do. I wasn’t sure if it was real.” She bit her lip, “Sorry, I don’t even know where this is coming from or why I told you. I just keep on thinking about Team 12…I didn’t have a dream about them dying and I feel…”

“Responsible?”

“Yes.” Elinor looked at him, her eyes lighting, perhaps relieved that someone understood the feeling.

“Do not feel that way. You are not responsible in your conscious state for what your subconscious mind perceives. Must I remind you of our previous disagreement on the philosophical principles of perception and reality?”

He smiled underneath his disguise, he successfully deflected her away from the somber topic by goading her into arguing with him. Proving her point was hopefully more important than relaying her troubling history to her body guard.

Still, Thrawn now understood the extent of her power.

 

The following week marked the completion of Phase I, there was celebratory cookies passed around to all the Tech Teams – Project Chimaera seemed to really like Oreos - and someone even found some party hats, poppers and whistles.

One of the engineers started a lively game of pin-the-tale-on-the-something called a bantha…which looked suspiciously like a wholly mammoth.

Elinor looked around in wonderment. She didn’t see Thrawn and found herself disappointed. She had worn her grey dress again since she had gotten the feeling, he like it on her.

_You’re being ridiculous, Elinor!_

She grinned as the engineers and technicians celebrated imaginatively. Who knew someone could walk around eating SPAM straight out of the can and still remain smiling?

There was a catalog of items being passed around which one could order from – it being the source of the party hats, poppers and whistles. Many of the female crew members had taken to buying some of the bath products and several of the engineers decided to go in together on a tiki bar complete with two barstools and grass skirts…

They were an odd bunch, but maybe that’s why she liked them so much. She fit right in….

 

He hurriedly dressed in his armor and walked briskly to her lab. When he entered, it was dim, but he could see that her back was to him, she was working at her drafting table, standing up on her toes slightly bent at the waist, leaning over a drawing. She was wearing the grey dress.

Thrawn groaned internally.

Music was playing in the background, something vaguely melancholy.

She turned and smiled beautifully at him.

“I waited for you.”

“Is that so?” he strode toward her.

She nodded as she put her pen down on the table and moved toward her desk. “I saved you some cookies. They’re Or-“

He didn’t know why, the reaction was automatic, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her toward him. She didn’t fight. One hand cupped her cheek and the other went to her waist. He bent his helmeted forehead down and rested it gently onto hers.

“I wish I could see your face.” She whispered.

His knuckles grazed the side of her face. Her heart skipped, and she closed her eyes.

“Please let me see you.” Elinor pleaded softly.

“We cannot.” His voice sounded sad and distant.

“We can!”

She looked around, as if searching for inspiration until her gaze found something. She grabbed a set of goggles.

“These are heavily tinted sawdering glasses. Unless there’s glowing metal sparks flying everywhere, I wouldn’t be able to see with these on.” She sat down on one of the benches and put the eyewear around her head, tightening the straps in the back so they would not slide off easily. Elinor waited expectantly until a warm hand touched hers.

Her breath hitched.

He moved her hand to his face and held it there.

“Do you see me now?” She heard and felt his voice. It was melodious, as suave and cool as ever but unhindered by the mask he usually wore.

“Yes…. You’re beautiful.”

 

They walked side by side, he had replaced his helmet and gloves before helping her remove the glasses, and after she gathered her messenger bag, they walked slowly to her quarters. Thrawn noted she kept the glasses gripped firmly in her hand and she was trembling.

When they arrived at her door, Elinor stopped and turned to him, heat radiating from her face and neck, slowly spreading to her chest…and lower. She was looking down at her feet.

He caught his breath.

“I have some books you might like. I um...I can go get them.”

“Is that what you would like? To read books?”

She slowly looked up at him then. The heat in her flared.

“No.”

In answer, Thrawn grabbed her waist and keyed the door. It slid open and he pushed them both inside. She was already desperately trying to tear at his chest plate.

“Wear them.” He ordered roughly, indicating the glasses.

“No. I want to see you.”

The Grand Admiral’s need became more desperate and for a fraction of a second, he considered it.

_No._

He ripped the goggles from her hand and attempted to put them on her. Apparently, her desire was just as ferocious, for she no longer argued and helped him place them around her head. Quickly he confirmed they were secure as she resumed her attempts at removing his armor, this time only by feel.

Thrawn ripped off his helmet and gloves, immediately cupping her face and kissing her lips.

_Finally._

She tasted like freshly fallen snow in springtime; all the beautiful things in the galaxy – and nothing could stand next to her in comparison. Their kiss was tender, despite the driving need that had pushed them to where they now stood holding each other.

He slowly bent away resting his forehead against hers.

“Elinor.” He murmured, his voice rough.

“Thrawn, please.” She panted, as she moved her hand up to his face.

The sound of his name her lips, spurred him on. He pulled himself free of the chest armor and tunic, leaving his standard issue black undershirt on. Her hands moved against his chest as she leaned in, in search of his lips. He met her passionately and her hands continued to roam him until they reached the snaps of his pants.

He growled, grabbed her wrists and pushed her up against the wall, jarring some of her books on a nearby shelf.

“You are taxing my self-control, Elinor” he purred in her ear and he moved his knee between her legs and pressed himself against her thigh.

“I don’t want your self-control.” She turned her head toward the sound of his voice.

“What do you want?”

“You know what I want.” She tried to wiggle free of him, but he continued to hold her.

“I want to hear it” he put as much authority into his voice as years of command afforded him.

“Do you want to hear that I want you? That I need you? That when you’re not around I ache for you? Is that enough?” she gasped as he pressed himself closer to her.

“That will do”

 

Elinor had never been with anyone. Who ever heard of a 29-year-old virgin in this day and age? She had started collage when she was 14. She had been completely devoted to her studies, then her research, then her work.

She never found anyone, because there was no one to find. Everyone was so much older than she was, while they were off drinking alcohol, she was still having milk and cookies.

Her parents had been devoted to each other - high-school sweethearts – and had gotten married very young. Wasn’t that what love was supposed to be? So, when Ellie didn’t find it, she assumed it simply didn’t exist for her.

Elinor Savona was always willing to admit when she was wrong, and in this case, she thought she might have very well been so.

She didn’t tell him she had no previous experience. She wanted to give herself completely to him, unselfishly. For what she felt for him, Elinor would walk through fire.

He was gentle, though. Tender, loving, slow. He stopped when he met her resistance and kissed her.

“I will go as gently as I can.” Thrawn’s voice was soft and heavily accented.

She nodded.

He pushed, applying even, steady pressure that suddenly broke through. She cried out, more from surprise than pain.

He did not move inside her immediately, instead he left kisses on her temple, cheek and neck and murmured softly in a language she had never heard before.

After adjusting to him, she was ready.

They clung to each other.

Wave after wave of pleasure rippled through her. He moved against her and inside of her as if he had made love to her a dozen times before. Each time the pleasure would crest, he would slow down and tilt himself, groaning as she’d cry out for him.

Finally, he could no longer hold back and with her final climax he slowed, then suddenly thrusted himself into her, further heightening her pleasure while pressing himself even closer to her; finally remaining still.

He remained braced above her, so as not to crush her. She ran her fingers through his hair and traced the well-defined muscles of his shoulder blades. He kissed her neck.

“Stay with me?” She asked softly.

“Yes.”

 

Evid Axon, former Commander in the Imperial Navy, smirked at the man standing before him. It would seem, that Yuri Gornovek liked his women. The Russian arms dealer had two blondes on either side of him, both clad in, revealing apparel appropriate for their station. Behind him were three men, each with side arms. Silly little toys that spat out metal pellets, inflicting damage – yes, but nothing in comparison with even a standard issue blaster. They were in an abandoned warehouse in some pathetic little area - someplace called Ohio.

“Commander Axon.” Gornovek nodded his head, his Basic heavily accented.

“I’m no longer a Commander, Mr. Gornovek” Axon’s smirk broadened. “I won’t be welcomed back.”

“The Grand Admiral’s loss is our gain.”

With the mention of Thrawn, Axon’s smile slipped.

“Shall we do business Mr. Gornovek?”

“Please.” The Russian gestured for him to continue.

Axon moved to the repulsorlift. The three boxes on it were identical. Pressing against a raised panel on the top box, a key pad appeared. Axon entered his access code and watched Gornovek’s face as the lid slid away.

“BlastTech E-11 Rifles, Imperial stormtrooper special.” Axon’s grin was back as he saw the hunger in Gornovek’s eyes. “Shall I demonstrate?”

The Russian nodded.

Axon had set up, in order by size, a few targets -- two mannequins, a used bicycle, and two personal motorized vehicles -one a Chevy Cruz; the front end crushed after an accident and the second a bright Yellow Hummer. The destruction of all, using the E-11, would likely make him a very wealthy and powerful man by Earth standards.

It did.

Gornovek and his men stood gapping at the smoking ruin of the Hummer, the husk of it was barely discernible. Even the blondes stopped fussing over their nails and hair to stare wide eyed at the display of power.

“How much?” Gornovek asked.

“That depends on you.”

Gornovek shot him a look.

“I want the Chimaera.” Axon said coldly. “We would both benefit. You get more of what you want.” – he gestured to the destroyed props, “and I get my own command, I can stay or go as _I choose_.”

“If you stay, what would you do?”

“Now, now, now, Mr. Gornovek. It’s not polite to be nosy.” Axon cautioned him.

One of the other Russians shifted uncomfortably. Axon’s eyes rested on him for a few heartbeats and the man stilled.

“What about the woman?”

“I decided I need her after all – she’ll be useful in either getting the Chimaera functional again or getting rid of Thrawn.”

“You want to kill or capture him? I do either, yes?” Gornovek shrugged his shoulders.

“I’m easy to please regarding that.”

Gornovek grinned. “I think I like our arrangement Mr. Axon.”

Axon smirked back. He had made excellent progress toward getting what he ultimately wanted: The Chimaera.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year!
> 
> There are fireworks!
> 
> No really. There are fireworks. It's 12:01. 
> 
> Although I do have to say I did blush the entire time I wrote this silliness. I don't read romance novels - so I am SOOOOOO out of my league. So I'm sure I made tons of mistakes because I only really read scientific jour- Oh hey more fireworks! Ooooo pretty!
> 
> Happy New Year.


	17. Phase Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning:  
> NSFW, Author Blushed During Writing, Um...A lot
> 
> In This Chapter:  
> The greatest danger is laying happily in the dark  
> Restoration and Failed Bond on Deck 8  
> The Act of Possession  
> Proposal  
> Blue silk

Grand Admiral Thrawn watched her sleep.

He was fascinated.

Periodically her lips would quirk upward in a small smile and she would sigh, but otherwise she was silent and still. He had studied her, as if she were art; his favorite tool for deciphering the universe around him. Elinor was art, but she was no longer a tool to be used and cast aside when done with. Like art, she needed to be preserved, cherished…kept safe.

Thrawn had failed in that.

He had disguised himself as her bodyguard to get close to her, to watch her and study her. Shortly thereafter he decided she did, in fact, need protecting. Who better than him, as he was already near her?

What he did not do, or perhaps could not, was protect her from the greatest danger of all: himself.

He would have to eventually tell her the truth. He could not stay. He needed to attempt a return. If what Ezra Bridger had said was true and the Death Star was no longer a threat, hope remained that the Empire could be salvaged. If she were to go back with him, she would be in even greater danger. People like Arihnda Price would seek to turn her into a helpless political tool, others would not even attempt subtlety and simply try to kill her.

No, she would have to stay here, and he would have to go.

How did he let this happen?

 

Elinor woke to complete darkness. She opened her eyes wider in an attempt to increase her conscious light perception and then realized the reason for the blackness. Ellie smiled and decided, she didn’t mind this temporary lack of light.

She moved to stretch a bit and found he was near. Feeling a burst of warmth through herself, she grinned.

“Good morning” he chuckled. Elinor could both hear and feel the rumble of it.

“Good morning” she tilted her face up to the sound and was met by a gentle kiss.

Her heart leapt. Was this what being in love felt like?

_You spent one night with him, and you haven’t even seen his face, Elinor!_

“You are well?” he asked carefully. He was wondering if he hurt her. Again, she experienced that swell of emotion.

“Very!” she grinned.

He laughed, and Ellie got the impression he was only this relaxed when he was around her. The emotion was causing her to tremble.

“I am gratified to hear it.”

“And..you? Are you well?” she bit her lip

He shifted next to her and she felt his warm hands move to her bare hips as he pulled her closer. His breath was hot and his voice thick with lust, “You cannot tell?”

“I uh I –“ she stammered starting to lose focus on everything other than the heat flaring inside her and Thrawn’s hypnotic voice.

“Perhaps I should show you _how_ well I am?” he purred.

She gasped as he pulled her to straddle his hips.

“I-I’m a slow learner.” She moaned as she felt him underneath her.

“And a terrible liar.” He added dryly.

 

Six days later, the restoration phase had started.

This was always Elinor’s favorite part of any project. Planning was fun, and designing was always an enjoyable challenge, but implementation was what engineers lived for. She watched it from afar, though.

In the lab she stood in front of a giant screen, noting the status of each Tech Team, with headset and notepad she was the epicenter of a flurry of information – like the center of a giant storm.

He watched from his corner as his lover slowly brought life to his ship.

“Team 8, status on the ventilation system on Deck 25?” she asked looking at her notepad then back at the big screen.

She waited and nodded, then marked something on the notepad.

“Acknowledged, Thank you!”

She flipped a switch on her headset and turned a dial.

“Hey Cookie Monster!” she said in mock-upset, “Commander Klary said we’d have those computer chips up to you by 1300 hours,” there was a pause during which a grin slowly brightened her face. “No, Nuh Uh, I’m still mad at you for stealing my Oreos, get back to work!” she laughed as she ended the transmission.

She looked up at the giant screen again and sighed contentedly.

A minute later, Thrawn heard the faint tone of the incoming call on her headset. She frowned, and he moved closer to her.

“Data Center, it’s Elinor.”

There was the garble of a man’s voice emanating from her headset, she bent her head down slightly in thought.

“Can you send a sample of both to the lab? We may need a different material, or a higher temperature or both. Is Tela up there with you?

An affirmative.

“What does he say?”

More garbled response.

Elinor sighed. “Tela would know best, if he thinks we need a secondary bonding material then I trust him. So, we’ll still need those samples to find a nice match. I’ll be up to talk with Tela.”

Thrawn’s posture stiffened.

She looked over at him, apologetically and then ended the call.

He cocked his head at her. The Chiss could sense an argument, mostly because he would be insistent that she remain in the lab and she would stubbornly refuse. He shook his head. This woman had turned him into a chickling, he suddenly realized.

It was time to remind her _what_ he was and _who_ was in command.

 

She ended the call with Fynotec.

Thrawn was already not happy with the situation, she could tell by the way he was standing so close to her, the way he crossed his arms over his chest. Elinor could practically feel him vibrating with tension.

Was it better to beg forgiveness than ask permission?

She would give him the benefit of the doubt.

“I need to go up to Deck 8. I have to talk with Tela.”

“You will stay here.” A command. Deep, rich and experienced in bossing people around.

“But you can come too?” Elinor offered

“You will stay here.” Again, the same command.

Elinor had given so much, for over 4 months. She missed her brother. She missed her former co-workers (dare she call them friends?), her townhouse, running through her park, even riding the bus and going to the silly grocery store. All the things that were ordinary. She had given them up to fix a military base out in the middle of who-knows-where.

She hadn’t seen natural light during her entire stay and if it hadn’t been for the man standing before her now, she’d probably have gone insane. The man who was trying to pin her down, keeping her further away from what made her, her. The man she was also in love with.

The emotion was complex and something she had never felt before. It burned her eyes.

“No!” her voice trembled.

He uncrossed his arms from his chest and looked down at her. She blinked and shallowed hard.

She spun around toward the privacy rooms to change from her dress into overalls. He did not stop her, but she felt him following closely behind her. She pressed the button to one of the rooms and the door slid open but before she could go in, his arm blocked the entrance. Ellie looked up at him then and sighed pleadingly.

“I have to do this. I have a job to do.”

“The team will return to the lab. You will speak to them then.”

The combination of helplessness and frustration was, in the end, the straw the broke the proverbial camel’s back. Hot tears streamed down her face. “I don’t want to be here forever! I want to go home!” she blurted a half angry snarl, half desperate sob.

Thrawn looked down at her, his body tense. He leaned slowly down and pressed his masked face close to hers.

“You may go, when I tell you, you can.” He said icily.

She tried to push him away, but he grabbed her wrists and pulled her into the privacy room with him. Hanging on the rack in the room was a bulky sawdering mask. Thrawn roughly shoved it over her head and pressed her against the wall. Elinor didn’t struggle as she heard him rip himself out of his armor. He reached up under her dress and tugged at her panties, hitching up her leg after freeing her of them.

The lovers, so familiar with each other, moved together, frantically.

Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata boomed in the lab behind them as Elinor moaned in pleasure.

“You are _mine_.” Thrawn growled fiercely in her ear, “ _Mine_.”

“Yours… Yours!” she gasped in passionate concurrence.

He tore at the thick strap of her dress and grazed her neck with his teeth, causing her to cry out and arch her back, allowing him a different angle.

He groaned, as her body shuddered around him, then he climaxed, biting down hard on her shoulder.

_Mine_.

 

_What had he done?_

He really, truly was a monster. A selfish being. Unfit to be in the same plane of existence as her, let alone her lover and her -….he sighed.

After he dressed, he hastily removed her face shield and handed her a pair of grease stained overalls – her dress was not fit to wear again. She smirked playfully at him as she removed the tattered thing, a prop in so many of his early dreams of her.

_Did she think that was pleasant?_

For Chiss males, the dire need to exert sexual dominance was generally driven by a hormonal shift, indicating that they, at an emotional level, found their partner. Not just a pleasing temporary companion but one who their body, mind and - some Chiss believed - soul, told them was their life-long mate.

The act of “possession” was meant to be a sacrifice for both parties. Males would exert their dominance but attempt desperately not to harm their mates – an act of self-restraint. Females would refrain from taking pleasure in the act out of solidarity. In the end, a male would conclude the possession by marking his female – a bite to the shoulder or neck.

He had never experienced it before and he could not control himself. He was a coward. For so many reasons, but the most obvious one, to him, was that he could not bear to be without her.

 

As it had turned out the “TIE” simulator things were very useful. She found that she could use just about everything from them except a box that one of the technicians dubbed “the shield.” She had to rip the guts of the thing apart to get access to it, so she didn’t really get to fiddle with it. The metal that would act as an intermediary bonding agent between the two dissimilar metals was even extracted from bits of the panels from the TIE.

Elinor was optimistic that the third metal would be enough to piece the system casing together – the system for Project Chimaera, called the “hyperdrive” was treated like irradiated fuel would be in a nuclear power plant, or a server room would be in a corporate headquarters.

Apparently, “The Jerk in Charge” had relayed to Captain Pellaeon she was not to go near it. Elinor smiled thinly. Rick had had a sign in his office that reminded her of this situation:

“We the unwilling, led by the unknowing, are doing the impossible for the ungrateful. We have been doing so much, for so long, with so little, we are now qualified to do anything with nothing!”

She didn’t blame Pellaeon or Pyrondi – they were just the messengers. But when the weld didn’t hold, she had to put her foot down.

“I absolutely need to see.” She insisted.

Pellaeon looked miserable.

“Ma’am, I have orders.”

“I know that, captain.” She soothed, “And I’m not unsympathetic to that, but I would like to request an audience with the Jer-, I mean your commanding officer and attempt to explain to him, why it’s imperative I get in there and have a look.”

Pellaeon searched her face. “Would you consider writing a proposal? What you intend to do? How you intend to do it and what specifically you will be looking at?

Ellie grinned enthusiastically. “Of course!”

 

She was at her desk in her room working on the writeup for the Captain when he came to her door.

She smiled as he entered. Once he was inside and she had closed the door she wrapped her arms around him. Thrawn absently rubbed the back of her head

“My apologies. I had another obligation that required my attention.”

She smiled into his chest. “You’re forgiven. In fact,…I have a surprise for you.”

Thrawn pulled away slowly and cocked his head slightly – he did this always when there was an unspoken question – asking “ _Oh really? What did you do, now?_ ”

Elinor giggled and bit her lip. “Wait here.” She commanded.

Thrawn snorted. He sat lazily down in her armchair, loosening his chest plate.

“You know that Pyrondi was sending that catalog around and… I guess someone goes off base to order the items…well I got a few things. A new dress, some shoes, a couple books…a few other things.” Her voice was distorted through the fresher door.

“I know of no such catalog.” He called back to her as he picked up the book lying open on the arm of the chair – one that they had previously discussed at length.

“It’s extensive.” He voice was louder and clearer. She’d exited the fresher and was standing, blushing profusely and biting her lip.

Thrawn felt his eyebrows lift.

“Do you like it?” she asked hopefully looking down at the blue silk.

Thrawn paused. This was one of those moments, ever increasing in frequency, where he wished he could take off his disguise and let her see him.

“I do not see the purpose.” Thrawn’s eyes moved over her.

Her shoulders slumped, “You don’t like it,” she cringed.

“I did not say that.” Thrawn commented wryly “I said I do not see the purpose.”

She furrowed her brow in confusion and alarm. “Its purpose is to seduce you!”

Thrawn stood up slowly and walked over to her, his steps measured. He removed a pair of tinted glasses from his belt and offered them to her.

Her lips parted as she dutifully put them on. He removed his helmet, keeping his eyes on her form, clad only in flowing shimmering blue – the color of his own skin, he removed all his clothing. Thrawn moved closer to her and took both her hands in his.

“I do not see the purpose.” He said softly, “You do not need flourishes to appeal to me, Elinor.” He leaned in closer to her. “I see you as you are, and desire you. All of you.”

Wordlessly she slipped the silk from her shoulders and it pooled at her feet. She stepped over the circle of blue to him and he enveloped her. All of her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi,
> 
> Once again: I don't know what I'm doing and I'm scared to death.
> 
> Also: I accidently bought Diet Ginger Ale...I'm out of alcohol after the last two chapters.


	18. Tibanna

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings:  
> None
> 
> In This Chapter:  
> Elinor gets a look at a hyperdrive she's amazed but also concerned  
> ...and tells Thrawn her fears. He finally shows her what she's building  
> Dr. Savona has gas and it's tedious.  
> Pellaeon stumbles on something interesting  
> Elinor searches for a simpler method...but it leaves Thrawn searching for her

“The Jerk in Charge” had approved her proposal. Ellie _almost_ skipped down the hallways to the lab. What stopped her from actually doing it was the pang of worry, that she might be losing her mind. No sunlight. No contact with the outside world for slightly under 5 months…yes, that was it.

Her sanity had finally gotten tired of the game and gone to graze in the green pastures of Oz. Or…it could be due to the copious amounts of sex.

Hm.

Occam’s Razor as a troubleshooting method, provided that the simplest solution tended to be the correct solution.

_It’s the sex!_

Elinor decided there was absolutely no harm in putting a little bounce in her step on the way to the lab.

 

The hyperdrive was considered a clean environment. Everything on her person was painstakingly sanitary.

Ellie’s hair net, hard hat, goggles (non-tinted, unlike her “usual” pair), boots and gloves were snuggly in place. The boots and gloves taped up at the wrists and ankles to ensure no visible clothing. All the tools on her heavy belt were on lanyards, cleaned with acetone.

Elinor always hated clean rooms – you never had an itchy nose until you were in a clean room.

She looked up at Tela, “Open it.”

She was momentarily blinded by bright blue light as she and Tela stepped forward quickly, the lead engineer closing the hatch behind them. Ellie suddenly had a flashback of banging on the furnace porthole desperate to get out as the oppressive heat of the oven flared around her. She quickly quelled the uneasiness.

Clean Room Rule #1: Don’t throw up in the clean room.

She looked down. She and Tela were on see-through grating – circling around the outside of the room. Ellie looked up to find the same style of grating in the same array. The system itself was technically located on five decks but could only be accessed on Deck 8. In the center of the room was the elongated casing – this only spanned three decks, Decks 7-9. The hyperdrive was accessible, again only via Deck 8.

When Tela opened the casing, she was expecting to see a standard drive mechanism – pistons, bearings, lubricants – a mess that would make traipsing back through the “clean” area a nightmare.

What Elinor saw, caused her to question her reality.

The glowing sphere looked like a generator and exciter…but it wasn’t cylindrical! It had multiple brackets about twice her height, hovering around it. They were elliptical; not spherical. It was obvious they were meant to move around the sphere, but their alignment was not conducive to this.

Tela started speaking and dragged her attention back to the casing wall. She did her assessment, scrapped the failed bond area and grabbed some additional samples. Before leaving the casing though, she spared one more look at the drive.

She had never seen anything like it before.

The tech that went into making something like that was far beyond anything she was aware of, even at the R&D level. It wasn’t just a technological step change. It was…worlds beyond.

What was mind boggling was, she didn’t even know what it was _used for_.

 

She lay in bed wrapped in his arms, but she couldn’t sleep.

“You are restless.”

Elinor sighed. “Yes.”

She turned and sat up in the darkness she had started to enjoy so much because she associated it with him. The hyperdrive mechanism seemed so secretive; government technology that a civilian such as herself was not supposed to even really know about, let alone see. Elinor should wipe it from her memory, fix the problem and forget about it.

But she could not. It was not in her nature.

“I saw something today…It doesn’t make sense. I don’t think I’m supposed to know about it because I’m a civilian.” She turned her head toward her lover.

“Yes.” He said softly.

_How did he know?_

He wasn’t even allowed to go with her. He had watched her get off the elevator on Deck 8. Was he aware of what it was and what it was used for?

“Thrawn…I’m starting to worry that I’m building… a weapon.” She whispered as she leaned into him.

He inhaled deeply. There was a long pause, while he gently stroked her bare arm as she sat with her head on her knees.

“There is a saying amongst my people, I do not agree with it, but it is said that the unknowing are the most content of beings.” Thrawn gently kissed her shoulder. “Would you like to know, what it is you are building?”

“Yes, but I don’t think, I ever will.”

Elinor felt him move out of the bed and she sat up straighter. “Where are you going?”

He pressed her clothes into her hands and pulled the covers away from her, “ _We_ are going to see what _you_ are building.”

 

Thrawn had pressed Deck 20 in the turbolift and Elinor had fervently insisted she could not go since the “Jerk in Charge” had forbidden it. He smirked under his disguise; if only she knew who the “Jerk in Charge” was…

A key pad was presented with the request for Deck 20 and Thrawn put his command code in. She was still looking at him with wrinkled brow when the doors opened. Her head turned and her face relaxed, lips parted; her eyes widened then narrowed again with emotion.

She stood still for some time and finally, mechanically stepped forward. Slowly, she walked - as if she approached too quickly the scene before her would disappear - coming to stand next to the transparasteel.

A stunning view of her world could be seen in the distance. The planet’s moon was near and to the starboard side of the ship, offering visual cover for the Chimaera. She pressed a trembling hand to the clear material as a single tear streaked down her cheek.

If she had not been paying attention to the blue-green world in the distance she would have seen the glowing red eyes reflected in the transparasteel.

 

The next day in the lab, Ellie was firing questions at him like proton torpedoes. Thrawn promised her, if the Chimaera was completed, the “Jerk in Charge” would explain _everything_. She was unconvinced.

“ _Everything_?” She asked skeptically for the third time.

“Yes.” Thrawn answered patiently.

Elinor sighed. Fine.

She would finish, but she wanted to know what this monstrous miracle really was. It certainly wasn’t something she could put on a resume. How would “Worked on space ship for 5 months sound to potential employers”?

They wouldn’t even bother with the interview let alone the drug test.

She still didn’t have a clear idea what the hyperdrive was used for, however based on the results of the bond tests, she would need some serious heat to get the materials to link. That was when she learned about tibanna gas.

 

Apparently, the guns that the “stormtroopers” had weren’t guns, or at least not like the one Thrawn had made her practice shooting the furnishings with. They referred to them as blasters, which made Elinor chuckle - it seemed to her like a “blaster” would be what a 6-year-old boy would call his toy gun.

The stormtrooper she quizzed over the weapon, cocked his head questioningly at her as she giggled over the term. Perhaps, the shock of finding out she was not on Earth had impacted her brain’s ability to product appropriate amounts of serotonin and dopamine

_You need some more sex, Elinor!_

Over the next three days Ellie siphoned the gas out of three blasters…very…very…very…carefully.

To say it was tedious work would be a huge understatement.

Too fast and she’d ignite the gas and blow herself up; that being the primary reason why each blaster was placed in a vacuum environment, and she worked behind a shield. Her heavily gloved hands, awkwardly moved pieces around and picked up tooling. It took hours of prep work for little gain. There was only so much tibanna you could get from each blaster.

With enough of the gas, she hoped to produce enough heat to bond the three metals on the hyperdrive casing together, thus solving the last of Project Chimaera’s major issues.

On the fourth day of sucking explosive gas out of a gun through a straw, Ellie decided it was time for a break. She very rarely went for a walk by herself, but Thrawn had “another obligation” and so she found Crissa Pyrondi on her travels.

“Dr. Savona, how are you?” Pyrondi smiled.

Elinor explained about the tibanna and even to her ears, it sounded like she was whining.

Pyrondi merely laughed. “Try talking with Commander Klary, she may be able to point you to some new E-11 blaster rifles that aren’t so depleted. Some of the blasters the stormtroopers are carrying now have probably been used and once you’ve pulled the trigger, they have an expiration date.”

She sprinted down the hall, almost gleeful and contacted Klary.

Sure enough!

The commander sent her box identification numbers with parts lists. She combed through them and found over twenty cases of fresh, never-before-used, BlastTech E-11 Blaster Rifles. In looking at status/location the boxes were in “deep storage” in the hanger bay. Notes under the ID number indicated the containers had been moved there to facilitate extensive hanger bay repairs after the attack over Lothal…

_Attack over Lothal?_

Was that some sort of code, procurement engineers used to sound mysterious?

Elinor shrugged, check the lab one last time to make sure Thrawn had not finished with his “obligation” and headed down to the hanger bay.

 

Pellaeon had checked on unloading operations an hour ago, resupplying the Chimaera’s foodstuffs and miscellaneous non-perishables had been two minutes ahead of schedule then. It was now finished, seven minutes early and the ship-to-surface transport was being secured to return to the planet below.

The Captain had approved the next order – items to be brought back to the Chimaera on the following visit from the transport. The Grand Admiral had approved those items that had gone down to the surface – supplies _from_ the ship for Rogyn and the few men and women on the surface tasked with obtaining planet-based resources.

It didn’t seem out of the realm of possibility that Thrawn would authorize BlastTech E-11s, after all, the procurement team was holed up in a fairly remote area. Perhaps they needed protection from local wildlife?

No, what was disconcerting to Pellaeon was the number of E-11s; more weapons than they had people on the surface.

He had watched the Grand Admiral for some time and had developed a deep respect for his command style, was this a logistical or typographical error or was the Chiss up to something? It would be better to err on the side of caution and ask his superior officer directly.

Besides, he got the impression, Thrawn would not think less of him for questioning the procurement order…something just didn’t seem right.

 

Ellie found exactly where the boxes were supposed to be…were _supposed_ to be.

As an engineer, she had to deal with so many ASTM and ASME standards, it was mind numbing. Procurement specialists were in charge of making sure everything that was purchased was done so with the correct paperwork, at the correct time, using those correct standards and stored under the correct conditions.

If any of those conditions were not met, the piece/part/component could not be proven reliable and therefore was considered a paperweight.

Ellie had several of those on her desk when she worked at TES. Components make from zirconium alloys that were made to spec, using the correct drawings, shipped correctly, and stored correctly but were not procured using the correct paperwork. A wonderfully-frustrating-way-to-waste-one-hundred-thousand-dollars later, a machined zircaloy plug is used to hold pencils.

In Elinor’s opinion procurement engineers and procurement specialists were far too cavalier with money.

She pursed her lips and must have been looking frustrated because a man, whom she vaguely recognized asked if she needed help.

“I’m looking for Box IDs 600897501, 502 and 503 and they’re supposed to be here but…”

The man, dressed as a civilian, smiled. “Oh, those are actually in my transport, ma’am”

“Are you going to the surface?” she knew she must have looked pained at the idea. So close to home, yet so far.

“Yes ma’am” he nodded enthusiastically, “I can show you the boxes if you would like?”

Elinor nodded automatically, still thinking of going to the surface, being home, seeing her brother, feeling the sun on her face and the wind in her hair. She inhaled shakily and followed the man.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t ask your name before.”

“Sawnor Rogyn, ma’am”

“Nice meeting you Mr. Rogyn, I’m Elinor Savona.”

“I know.”

Elinor sighed. She was getting tired of everyone knowing who she was. It was almost like she had rock-star-status aboard this flying boat! At first it was flattering, but after five months it was getting tiresome.

Rogyn led her through the back hatch of his “transport.” It reminded Ellie a little of the U-Haul that had been delivered into the docking bay months back – empty, save one box, to prove a point made by the “Jerk in Charge.”

Rogyn’s transport was a bit bigger than a U-Haul though…

Inside were several sleek looking gray metal boxes. She bent to looked at the IDs. They were a match for those that she had been looking for, for the past two hours.

She turned to Rogyn with a smile on her face, but as she faced him the smile contorted into a scream.

 

Thrawn’s red eyes bore into the datapad. Pellaeon suddenly started to feel sweat bead on his forehead. Perhaps he was wrong about how the Grand Admiral would react to his questioning attitude. Finally, reluctantly, Thrawn flicked his gaze up to the Captain.

“Has the transport departed, Captain?”

The Captain sighed. “Yes, sir. As I was making my way here, I was notified of the departure. I thought it best not to discuss the issue in the open, sir.”

“That is quite alright, Captain.” Thrawn said quietly, but Pellaeon was sure the Grand Admiral did not think things were alright. In fact, the older man was certain Thrawn was livid. The Chiss would very rarely show any form of emotion, unless it was of some strategic benefit.

Only with Elinor Savona was there a noticeable change in him. It was not lost on most of the crew that Dr. Savona’s bodyguard was, actually the Grand Admiral in disguise, and it had not escaped anyone’s notice that her bodyguard was _very_ protective.

“Orders sir?”

“You may have stumbled upon Axon’s motive for deserting, Captain. Currently, he does not believe we have caught on to his scheme. I wonder how it would seem to a potential buyer if his next shipment were to be…substandard?”

Pellaeon smiled tightly. How, indeed?

 

He entered the lab. Darkness. He did not find her in her quarters. He searched the areas of the ship, known to have recent problems, Deck 11 near the dampeners – No.

Deck 8 near the hyperdrive - No,

Deck 16 near a ventilation tube that had ruptured earlier that day – No.

Maybe she found a way to enter Deck 20 – No.

He returned to the lab and then to her quarters.

It was as if she had vanished.

Grand Admiral Thrawn had understood fear. He had instilled it in his enemies. He himself had experienced it…but not like this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi,
> 
> A hyperdrive is an engineers fantasy. I only wrote about what I could only imagine. 
> 
> Also the chemical properties of tibanna are a mystery - we know vacuum sealing it can be messy/dusty (?) and it's used to make things go pew pew pew.
> 
> For the purposes of this I assume it can be superheated to bond unconventional materials and...yeah nevermind. I'm tired. You're tired. 
> 
> Also: I STILL don't know what I'm doing, and I'm STILL nervous about all this...but I'm kinda STILL having fun...
> 
> Ok...I'll leave it at this for now. Happy New Year.


	19. Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning:  
> Physical Violence
> 
> In This Chapter:  
> Elinor really does not like guns  
> Thrawn has a headache  
> Ezra wants to help  
> The Russians aren't very nice...  
> ...and Axon has a dangerous temper.

Elinor Savona awoke to sunlight on her face and the wind in her hair. She gasped and sat upright suddenly. Her hands were bound in front of her and her ankles were wrapped together so tightly with packing tape she was concerned about loss of circulation to her feet. She hadn’t been gagged but whomever bound her feet and legs had done so with the intension of making sure she would not be standing.

_Who did this?_

The buzz inside her mind, started to clear and she remembered looking for tibanna gas, getting on the transport with Rogyn, turning around and seeing the gun – no blaster – and then the blue burst of energy fly at her. Ellie didn’t even think she had time to scream.

She looked down at herself, sudden panic leaping into her heart.

She’d been shot!

There was no blood, no burns and other than sore ribs and feet that were slowly turning blue, she was of sound physical condition.

That didn’t make any sense.

Did she have an aura and was hallucinating – was she dreaming now?

She looked around her, she was in a wooded area, it was obviously in a moderate climate – standard October weather with leaves on the forest floor. The tat-tat-tat of squirrels bouncing around in the leaves, drew her attention to other sounds – men in the distance talking and laughing, the leaves underneath her crunching loudly when she moved only slightly.

The laughter was rancorous, but it was their language that made Ellie’s blood run cold.

_Russian_.

The man who had infiltrated Project Chimaera was Russian. Thrawn told her he was a spy that was trying to escape the base, then. Since learning that the Chimaera was a ship, she never knew how the imposter got onboard or whether he was actually Russian or a pretender….

Elinor tried to not panic and focus again on her surroundings.

She saw nothing but leafless trees behind her. In front of her there was a wall of thorn covered vines, likely providing cover from her captors. To the left of her was a fallen tree – a thin dead stalk that had snapped two feet from where it had once tried to gather nutrients from the ground.

The snapped trunk was splintered and shredded; likely sharp.

Slowly, Elinor laid down on her belly, she looked around and listened. No response from the men on the other side of the hedge – they were still boisterously happy.

She began to inch along, gradually using her elbows to propel herself forward all too aware of the terrible racket she was making in the leaves as she did so. Finally, she arrived at the stump and shifted to her back. Ellie lifted her legs, lined the packing tape up with the protruding splinter and began to move both legs back and forth slowly at first.

Once a track was established, she moved faster, almost frantic. It was only a matter of time, when someone would come to check on her. She intended to be running like a madwoman by that point.

She heard the satisfying snap and felt the tape loosen and tried to spread her feet apart. Still not quite successful she repositioned herself and continued to rub the back of her ankles against the fallen tree. Again, there was another pop and she moved her legs apart, but the packing tape had been put on in such a layered manner that she had to push back from the trunk and lift one leg from the other to rip the tape from her pant leg.

She pushed back a little too forcefully.

The fallen tree shifted causing a massive noise in the otherwise quiet wood. Elinor was already on her feet running in the opposite direction when her Russian keepers came tearing around the hedge to investigate.

She couldn’t run at her normal speed because her hands were bound, but she certainly wasn’t moving slow and she thought she was in control of the situation…until they started shooting.

 

Thrawn’s headache was back and it was worse than ever.

Pellaeon, Pyrondi, Yermentic, and Klary could see it in his face and his body stance. The Grand Admiral was suffering, and he wasn’t as calm as he usually was. The red eyes shifted restlessly as if searching for the answer to an insolvable problem, hoping to pluck it from thin air. It was alarming to see the Chiss in such a state, for those who had spent the most time under his command, people like Pyrondi and Yermentic, it was downright crushing.

“Status, Captain?” Thrawn looked to Pellaeon.

“We’ve searched the entire ship, sir. She’s no longer onboard.”

“A synopsis of her activities prior to her disappearance?” Thrawn’s tired gaze shifted to Pyrondi.

“I have that, sir.” Klary handed the Grand Admiral her report.

Klary had felt terrible since it was determined that _she_ was the last one to speak with Elinor prior to her disappearance.

Klary had taken it upon herself to retrace the Head Engineer’s steps prior to their conversation. Elinor had been working extensively with tibanna gas, and at first Pellaeon was afraid the poor woman had blown herself to atoms, but the Chimaera’s internal fire protection system would have caught any kind of explosion, controlled or otherwise.

Grand Admiral Thrawn abruptly stood from his seat at the war room table.

“Captain, with me.” Thrawn hissed.

Pyrondi, Yermentic, and Klary exchanged startled looks as Pellaeon quickly made to follow the Chiss.

“Yes sir?” Pellaeon walked beside his commanding officer as Thrawn handed him his datapad.

“I find the topic of conversation Commander Klary had with Dr. Savona immediately prior to her disappearance most interesting.” Thrawn said darkly.

Pellaeon read it twice to make sure he understood. There was a very unpleasant tingling feeling crawling up his spine as he handed the datapad back to Thrawn.

“I think we may want to go down and see if those boxes are still in deep storage.” Pellaeon said slowly.

“They are not. The ID numbers match those on the most recent surface transport list. I believe, Captain, that Dr. Savona stumbled onto a theft in progress”

 

Elinor hated guns. If someone wanted to practice shooting a piece of copper-nickel alloy at 400 meters per second at an inanimate object for sport, or go hunting for their food like a caveman, she found that acceptable. Any other usage, especially to shoot at _her_ , was despised – and not unwarranted given her circumstances.

She weaved through the trees, desperate to be far enough out of range. They were using a combination of guns and blasters. The guns created a terrifying pop and kicked up leaves nearby. The blasters blew up trees and set fire to the leaves around her. For some strange reason, Ellie was concerned that if the area they were in had suffered a drought, this may very end up as Ground Zero for a massive wild fire with the way her pursuers were spraying destruction.

She had no idea where she was or where she was going but up ahead the trees seemed to thin -this could be a good thing or a very very bad thing. Good in that it could mean greater visibility to more people; very very bad in that it could mean greater visibility for her captures with no other people around to see them when they kill her.

Thankfully it was the former. It was a road and a small red pickup was headed toward her as she cut through and stood to the side of the road motioning frantically for help. The truck pulled over for her and the driver opened the door.

“Get in!”

It was Mr. Axon.

_What luck!_

“Mr. Axon! I’ve got to get back to the ship! Someone took me away! They don’t know I’m gone and there were men – I think they’re Russian! They were trying to shoot me! Thrawn doesn’t even know where I am – he’s got to be crazy by now! Can you help me?” Elinor was panting from running.

She didn’t notice the dispassionate expression on Axon’s face.

“I think I can help you.” He said coolly.

She sighed in relief. “Thank you…I was just looking for tibanna gas and someone named Rogyn shot me – I don’t know how I’m still alive – I swear he shot me…But the blasters – I needed the tiban-“

He looked sharply at her and it was then that she looked closely at him and caught her breath. She paused to swallow carefully, a chill ran up her back and her hands began to shake.

“I’m sorry. I’m being rude. I haven’t seen you recently, Mr. Axon….How have you been?”

Evid Axon laughed bitterly removed a blaster from his coat and pointed it at her. She was trying desperately to claw at the lock on the car door when he shot her.

 

Ezra Bridger, stepped off the turbolift and moved with purpose toward the Grand Admiral’s office.

Only a few months ago, the path he was taking would be one indicative of something very bad for him, something likely to lead him to a prison cell, or worse – his death.

That was a different life.

In his new life he would travel this route with less resignation, fear and loathing for the man he was to see at the end of it. However, in this case, the news would be grim.

The guards informed Thrawn he was here. There was an uncharacteristically long wait and then he was allowed to enter.

The Chiss was calm and unemotional on the surface. But something dark lay just underneath the, fear – was she safe or even alive -and guilt – it was his fault; another failure to look back on with regret. The most striking though was the cold hard rage at those that had taken her from him.

“Bridger.” Thrawn acknowledged.

“I’ve come to help.” Ezra nodded to him

“I am afraid your offer of assistance is belated and therefore unnecessary.” Thrawn gave him a withering look.

“No, I don’t think so.”

The Grand Admiral sighed tiredly “What do you want Bridger?”

“I can help with harvesting the tibanna.”

Thrawn stiffened.

“Is it not against your Jedi code of ethics to assist in the armament of Imperials?”

“Elinor isn’t an Imperial.” Ezra shook his head.

“No, she is not.” Thrawn said softly.

Ezra shrugged. “I’m still learning the ways of the Jedi….I’m sure there are exceptions to every rule.”

 

She awoke again, this time she was in complete darkness. Elinor instantly thought of Thrawn and tears began to form in the corner of her eyes. He would never know what had happened to her. _She_ didn’t even know what was happening to her.

She had been shot at point-blank-range twice in one day and she wasn’t dead. Was this all some dream born out of a seizure? Was this what the future had in store for her? Or was this her present and was she really going through it?

She could drive herself insane thinking about it.

The floor underneath her moved and she was jostled back and forth.

The darkness. The movement. She was in the truck of a car.

As if in answer to her realization, the diver slammed on the breaks and turned off the engine. Elinor felt herself start to panic as she tried to position herself, so she could kick at whomever tried to open the trunk when they finally released the hatch. It was no use though, there was no way to maneuver around in her confinement.

The trunk lifted suddenly and there was a flash of light. Before she had any time to plan her defense. Someone had grabbed her hair and dragged her roughly from the back of the car. Her hands were still bound so she scrambled to follow the burly man who had his hand clamped on her – Elinor could do nothing to try to loosen his grip.

“Careful, Demetri. Don’t ruin our prize.” A thick Russian accent admonished as the grip loosened slightly.

Loose enough for Elinor to slam her foot down on Demetri’s toes – his expensive designer shoes offered little protection - and the man howled in surprised pain. He let go of Elinor’s hair and she was able to stand up straight.

The other man, the man who spoke, laughed.

“Ah, now I understand why the Grand Admiral likes you so much.”

She stared at him coldly as she stepped further away from the very-upset-looking Demetri.

“I don’t know who you are or what you’re talking about” she snarled.

Both men laughed at this and Ellie felt her face turn red. She looked around as the Russians continued their delight at her expense.

A warehouse.

It was dark now and the overhead lighting was old and in need of replacement. Trash and other rubbish littered the aisles, and an old forklift, parked near one of the massive shelving units was spray painted with graffiti. It was an _abandoned_ warehouse. Someone was not likely to hear her if she screamed and it would only serve to make her captor mad or laugh more. Neither pleasant.

There was a familiar voice from behind her and she jumped. Axon came around the parked car and smirked at her.

“How’s the Grand Admiral’s favorite toy?”

This prompted another bout of laughter from the Russians.

“Axon! Take me back to the Chimaera! Now! If Thrawn gets his hands on you, he’ll kill you!”

The Russians stopped laughing and suddenly seemed very intrigued by the conversation about to unfold before them.

Axon slowly walked toward her glaring. She stood her ground – she had dealt will bullies her entire life. Divert your eyes, step back, or submit in any way and the tormentor wins.

Elinor Savona was tired of letting them win.

Axon stood now, a mocking glare distorting his features that had once seemed kind. Suddenly, he raised his arm and back handed her. She fell to the ground, groaning.

“Did you get that on video, Demetri?” Axon called over his shoulder.

“Yes.” The Russian grinned and gave his iPhone to Axon so the Imperial could replay it.

“Good. I’m sure the Grand Admiral will enjoy watching it.”

“What are you…talking about?” Elinor gasped as she sat up.

“Oh…Ohhh. That’s right. You don’t know.” He turned back to Demetri. “You may want to capture this as well.”

Her eyes shifted to the man with the camera and then back to Axon as she remained in a sitting position on the cold floor of the warehouse.

“I suppose you don’t know this. Perhaps he’s embarrassed because he’s nothing more than a freak. Your bodyguard? He isn’t human.” Axon sneered. “He’s an abomination – he really shouldn’t even be in the Imperial Navy, but Palpatine made him a Grand Admiral because he was good at what he did until Atollon.”

Elinor sat on the floor looking at him as if he were giving her a mildly interesting weather report. His temper was starting to flare.

“You don’t even know what he looks like.”

That, however, had hit a nerve - a slight flicker of emotion in her eyes.

He felt the warmth of satisfaction as he continued “Let me enlighten you…he has blue skin, like a freak….and red eyes.”

Evid Axon was watching her carefully, waiting for the shock to contort her features and the disgust to roll off her – let Thrawn see his lover’s revulsion for him – but he didn’t expect her face to relax and her lips to turn up slightly.

She stood slowly, carefully, keeping her eyes on him. “I already know that,” she said softly, “and I really couldn’t care less. He’s a far better person than any human I’ve ever met.”

The former Imperial commander was livid. He grabbed her roughly and kneed her in the stomach, when she collapsed to the floor, he kicked her savagely three times and would have continued, had it not been for Yuri Gornovek’s intervention.

 

The videos of the beatings came in, as well as Axon’s ultimatum at 2300 hours, ship time. By 2356 both sentinel droids had been completely destroyed and Thrawn had started formulating his strategy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello,
> 
> Sorry for the violence – I envisioned Axon as someone who would enjoy revenge and like to taunt people – a real bully. He’s also power hungry. 
> 
> Elinor wasn’t so surprised by Axon’s description of Thrawn because of her dream of him in Chapter 8.
> 
> Also, please don’t think Elinor is a damsel in distress – she shows some serious nerve her pretty soon
> 
> The story is obviously coming to a head so there will be a lot of things that get tied back to previous chapters...little things. The devil is in the details, maybe?
> 
> I dunno...I just make this silliness up!
> 
> Thanks for hanging in there.


	20. Command

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning:  
> Attempted Sexual Assault
> 
> In This Chapter:  
> Axon schemes  
> Elinor meets Gornovek’s girls, Serena and Tatiana  
> Yermentic relieves Thrawn of command  
> Working engineers unite!  
> If Axon won’t bite his own tongue…  
> Major Cran makes a play

Axon wanted the Chimaera.

With it, he could foreseeably own his own planet. Imperial technology was far superior to anything Earth had to offer and aerial bombardment of a few major cities would convince the general population it would be in their best interest to accept the Empire’s rule.

_Axon’s rule_.

He would have his own Empire. Thrawn was the only obstacle. The alien would not be for much long, however. The former commander had received word from Gornovek that the Grand Admiral had agreed to the terms of their arrangement and had chosen a remote location – how noble – for the exchange.

Well, the red eyed freak was led to believe it was an exchange: The Chimaera’s remaining stock of BlastTech E-11s for his whore. But what Thrawn would really be giving up was his life.

 

Gornovek had two girlfriends, they were both well aware of each other and actually enjoyed each other’s company, as well as that of their wealthy benefactor. One of them, Tatiana, kept Percocet handy for when “things got rough” and she kindly offered some to Elinor.

Wanting to stay alert to the possibility of escape, she politely refused, but the blonde would not take no for an answer and crushed two of the pills, placing the dust into a warm Diet Cola for the poor girl with the short boy hair.

She woke, once again, in an unfamiliar place. This time, she was on a plane. Mr. Gornovek’s private jet, to be exact. And they were headed to a meeting. Elinor pressed Tatiana and Serena for what they knew about this meeting, but they were clueless…very clueless. They did, however, tell her it was there job to make her presentable.

“Excuse me?”

“We need to make you look nice for your Admiral, no?” Serena said airily.

“If that was high on the priority list, I should not have been beaten.” She commented dolefully.

“Men, will be men.” Tatiana responded as she filed her nails.

Elinor shot her a look. The whole conversation was such a cliché. She decided she needed to get away from the vacuum chambers braced precariously above the silicone implants.

She made her way out to the main cabin and saw, Axon talking with Gornovek, and Demetri. She turned back around, but not before she was noticed.

“Running away?”

“Hardly. I didn’t want your manhood to feel threatened.” She responded tartly.

_Careful, Elinor._

He smirked. “Don’t worry, my manhood is hardly in question. Once your red eyed freak of a lover is out of the way, Mr. Gornovek has graciously agreed to allow you to live. It seems Demetri has taken a liking to you.”

She stiffened, and her brown eyes flicked over to the two Russians sitting in silent laughter.

“What makes you think that Thrawn will be easily beaten?” Elinor raised her eyebrows at Axon, “He _is_ a Grand Admiral.”

He stepped forward quickly making her flinch, “Because I have something, he wants more than anything.” He said softly, “You.”

 

Pellaeon, Cran, and Pyrondi sat in the Grand Admiral’s office in stony silence. To say they were unhappy would seem sarcastic. Cran was downright irate, his face radiating significant amounts of heat as his lips pressed into a thin line, the Captain looked nauseated and warry and Pyrondi was on the verge of tears.

“With all due respect sir, this is not a good idea.” Cran growled out.

“On the contrary Major.” Thrawn said softly, “it will result in minimal Imperial casualties.”

“That’s because there won’t _be_ any Imperials there except for _you_!” Cran screamed at the Chiss.

“Major, control yourself!” Pellaeon barked.

“It is quite alright, Captain.” Thrawn soothed. “I will have the Chimaera standing by.”

“Sir, what if our turbolasers fail?” Pellaeon asked carefully.

Thrawn’s eyes flicked to the young Lieutenant seated next to Pellaeon. The Grand Admiral studied Pyrondi for a moment and she returned his gaze.

“I am confident that we have the capability for at least one shot, sir.” Pyrondi said, “And the Jedi was helpful in extracting the tibanna from the remaining E-11s.”

Thrawn nodded. “There is one last thing…”

As if on cue, Thrawn’s office door slid open and Dr. Yermentic entered.

“Ah, CMO Yermentic. Thank you for coming. The concern we discussed previously, has unfortunately come to pass, I find I am extremely… _stressed_ by my present condition.”

Yermentic nodded.

The three officers already seated across from Thrawn shifted uncomfortably in their seats.

“I know you care for Elinor greatly and could be in such extreme duress that you put the crew of this vessel in harm’s way. I would recommend that you –“

“Wait a minute!” Cran interjected angrily.

“- relinquish your command duties to the next senior officer in the chain of command for the sake of your health and the safety of this crew.” Yermentic continued formally but sounded robotic.

Captain Pellaeon was shaking his head emphatically. “No, I don’t accept. No!”

“These are my formal and final recommendations and they will be documented into the ships logs. Grand Admiral Thrawn, I hereby relieve you of command per my authority given under Section 23.89.7-A.4 of the Imperial Navy’s Code of Conduct.”

Pyrondi sat wide eyed with her hand covering her mouth and Cran was swearing under his breath. Pellaeon simply looked crestfallen.

“Thank you doctor, I will heed your advice and relinquish command of the Chimaera until the current operation relating to Dr. Savona is concluded or until you deem me fit to resume my duties.” Thrawn smiled slightly.

Yermentic did not respond but looked at him unhappily for a long moment. They had discussed this maneuver prior to it being executed in front of the audience witnessing it now, she was still extremely disturbed over it.

Finally, she turned to the Captain. “Captain Pellaeon, you are now in command of the ISD Chimaera. What are your orders, sir?”

 

Thrawn had dressed himself in armor underneath his Grand Admirals uniform and was waiting at the desk of his office.

_His former office_

The armor would stop a low power ricochet from a blaster rifle, but it would do nothing for the wound he would suffer if Elinor was already dead. He took solace in the fact that if she were, he would join her soon enough. Her killers too would soon lay dead and justice will have been rendered, if such a scenario were to play out.

There was a com beep indicating an entry request at the office door. He signaled his approval and the entrance slid open to reveal a group of lead engineers. Thrawn lifted an eye brow slightly as they filed in and stood at attention…all twenty-six of them. The had apparently elected Commander Dalen Tela to speak on the group’s behalf, because he stepped forward cautiously and cleared his throat.

“Sir, we would like to report that one of the TIE Defender shields that Dr. Savona removed has been retrofitted to your requirements, as have two standard issue blasters. I would advise caution with them, sir.”

“Thank you, Commander.” Thrawn nodded.

“Uh – Also sir, we would like to extend our offer of assistance in anything else you need to support your…rescue attempt.”

Thrawn smiled slightly. He was not the only one who loved Elinor and it was comforting to know that if he were to die and she lived, the crew of the Chimaera would see to her safety.

“That is greatly appreciated, Commander. I believe everything is in order.”

“Yes, sir.” Tela bobbed his head. “We have a lot of respect for Dr. Savona. We want her back, sir.”

“As do I, Commander.”

The old engineer looked at him then, rather shrewdly. “Sir, as they say down on the planet: ‘Go kick ass’”

Thrawn arched his brow in amusement. “Indeed, I shall try, Commander.”

 

Elinor decided that Serena and Tatiana were evil people who enjoyed torture probably just as much as the male company they kept. They put her in stilettos and a miserably tight black dress that barely concealed those things that she only displayed in her bedroom, in her shower and in her doctor’s office.

She was sitting sullenly in one of the plush leather seats staring out the window as the plane made its final decent when Axon sat down next to her. Ellie instinctively leaned away from him, but he put his elbow on the arm rest and moved close to her, his hot breath close to her ear.

“You look nice.” He smirked. “Perhaps, the alien will remember what he’s missing. Maybe he’ll just not care. Either way, I get what I want.”

She mustered the courage to look at him.

“And what is it, you think he’ll give you?”

“The Chimaera.” Axon’s smile was gone, and he looked dangerous.

Elinor felt the shock warp her face – more than she would have normally, given the grotesque amount of makeup the evil-step-sisters and put on it.

_He wanted to usurp command_.

“What do you intend to do with it? Certainly not R&D?” Elinor tried to control her breathing.

Axon smiled slowly, evilly. He moved his hand to her cheek she cringed away, trembling.

“I intend to create an Empire.”

Elinor’s heart skipped a beat and her stomach felt queasy. He was going to use the Chimaera to subjugate the population of the whole planet.

_Earth._

He was going to try to take over the planet.

This was unthinkable. She shook her head to clear it and then suddenly another horrifying aspect of it all snapped into focus in her mind.

_Thrawn._

“You’re going to kill him.” She couldn’t stop the slow hot tears of rage, “This isn’t a meeting, it’s a setup.”

The former Imperial inhaled deeply. He did like Elinor Savona, she certainly smelled good. It was a shame she’d been used by an alien. In her defense, she didn’t really know any better – so inexperienced. Perhaps he could request he borrow her from Demetri on occasion. Or perhaps, he would just educate her now.

“What will happen to you if he dies?” Axon leaned further into her as he put his hand on her bare knee.

She tried to stand up, but his hand moved further up her thigh, trying to pry her legs open. She whimpered and started to scream until he pressed his lips to hers. He forced them open and his tongue into her mouth. His victory was near…until she bit down. Hard.

He pushed her away, his mouth bleeding. She spat blood at him as he made to reach for her throat. Elinor fell out of her seat and scrambled backward as the plane descended into heavy cloud cover. Axon stood but immediately fell back into his seat. She clambered down the aisle to Tatiana and Serena.

They weren’t bad company, after all.

 

Major Thae Cran stood by the transport in the hanger bay of the ISD Chimaera. If the Chiss wanted to play games, well, so could he. With the Captain’s blessing – rather, gratitude – Cran waiting for Thrawn.

Not a moment later the Grand Admiral (currently not in command), strode in and his eyes swept over the transport, inspecting it as any good pilot ought to prior to any sort of operation. The glowing red eyes met his and Cran felt himself stiffen.

“Major Cran.” Thrawn greeted.

“Sir.” Cran nodded. “Are you ready to travel to the surface?”

Thrawn’s face was impassive but there was a tiny hint of an amused smile.

“Indeed, but as you know Major, I will be traveling alone.”

“That’s not entirely true, sir.” Cran tried to relax himself. “Per Section 23.89.7-A.4 of the Imperial Navy’s Code of Conduct you are no longer in command. Also, you will be using Imperial property” Cran motioned to the transport. “and therefore, must be supervised during your use of it. Dr. Yermentic also indicated you have been suffering from excessive stress and with a transport full of BlastTech E-11s, even without tibanna gas, she and Captain Pellaeon deemed it necessary for you to be observed during your trip to the surface.

Thrawn was smiling tightly by the time Cran finished his monologue.

“Very well, Major.”

Cran looked thunderstruck.

“Sir?”

“As you say, I am no longer in command and I certain do not wish for Imperial resources to be wasted.”

“Sir..I didn’t mean.” Cran’s face crinkled in painful awkwardness.

“Calm yourself Major. I am not offended. On the contrary, I am grateful.”

“I’m relieved, sir” Cran smirked and seemed to wilt a little in relief.

“Do you have the…specialized service weapon?” Thrawn asked him carefully.

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Unfortunately, I cannot offer another shield. We have only one retrofitted for our current need. We will have to stay together.”

“Understood, sir.” Cran nodded solemnly

Thrawn turned to enter the transport but turned back to the Cran.

“Oh, and Major…well played.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi,
> 
> Notice in Thrawn’s conversation with Tela that the Grand Admiral requested the engineers make two “special” service weapons…I’m thinking the Grand Admiral was expecting someone to “tag along” either way he’ll get more Russians with two "retrofitted" blasters (foreshadowing, perhaps?)
> 
> The next chapter is Loooong. Sorry.
> 
> And there are several details from previous chapters that come into play in the next chapter.
> 
> Some hints that may be useful:  
> Chapter 16 – Elinor discovers a “shield” isn’t good for much.  
> Chapter 7 – Brothers come up with the oddest nicknames.  
> All Chapters - I don't know what I'm doing!!!!!!


	21. Light From Above

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning:  
> Shooting - Lots of it
> 
> In This Chapter:  
> Pellaeon thinks Thrawn's plan might work  
> Thrawn is no-nonsense but Axon has all the cards  
> Elinor walks to him but has to stop at the halfway point...  
> ...only to find out about Axon's "insurance policy"  
> She is fierce. Elinor Savona is a fighter and Grand Admiral Thrawn is depending on it  
> Pull the trigger for nothing - got shield will travel.  
> Finding a traitor  
> Big gun needed - Enter Pyrondi  
> Life goes on...

Captain Pellaeon was not by nature a nervous person. He had been in the Navy far too long and had seen too many battles in the Clone Wars that hadn’t ended well…for either side.

This was not so much a nervous feeling but rather a tension and uneasiness that had floated around the ship like an elusive vapor. The crew of the Chimaera were fiercely loyal to their commander, the Captain had noticed immediately upon arriving aboard her.

He wondered why but it hadn’t taken long to figure it out.

Grand Admiral Thrawn, was not like many of the senior officers Pellaeon had seen through the years. Those men and women gloried in power and authority and had not sought council from anyone other than their own dictatorial selves.

Thrawn was entirely different. He didn’t seem to be egotistical in any way, giving credit where credit was due, willing to admit where miscalculations were made, and he sought out the opinions of others. It took getting used to.

At first the Captain thought it had been a test, meant to reprimand him or embarrass him in front of the bridge crew but upon him requesting input from Klary and Pyrondi and at the time Commodore Faro, he realized this was his new commanding officer’s way. Faro had apologized to him later; for not preparing him for Thrawn’s unique style of command.

She had gotten so used to it after so many years she thought nothing of it anymore.

Pellaeon was still getting used to it, but that didn’t mean he didn’t admire the Grand Admiral. The idea of his commanding officer down on the surface, walking into a trap laid by that traitor, Axon made the old Captain sick. He only hoped Major Cran would be of some assistance and that Elinor Savona was not dead or incapacitated.

He paced down the walkway and met Lieutenant Pyrondi’s eyes. She nodded to him in understanding.

“Are the forward batteries charged?” Pellaeon asked.

“As much as I dare, sir. Anything more and a few people might get a little curious down there.” Pyrondi explained.

Pellaeon nodded once. “How long to full capacity?”

“Ten seconds, sir.”

“Good. Sensors are up?”

“Yes, sir.” Pyrondi answered crisply, a bit of pride in her voice. The Lieutenant had worked on repair of the forward sensors for the past month.

“Excellent. And how do we stand for visual cover?”

“We have 5.6 hours available with the moon’s shadow and the strike team is in position.”

“Good.” Pellaeon almost laughed.

This might actually work. Thrawn’s plans usually did…but Pellaeon didn’t think even he could have anticipated the last year.

 

The Imperial transport was a small troop transport – identical to the one Evid Axon had used upon his resupply trips to the Chimaera when he was still taking orders from the alien Grand Admiral. He smiled to himself and then winced slightly – he still had the taste of iron in his mouth from the blood. Elinor Savona would pay for her insolence. He would take great pleasure in making sure that before the Chiss died, Thrawn knew exactly what was in store for her.

The back hatch of the transport opened slowly, and two figures began walking slowly down the ramp. Thrawn was leading the way in his pristine white Grand Admiral’s uniform and Thae Cran followed behind.

Axon snorted.

Apparently, the Major had warmed up to being the watchful protector.

Yuri Gornovek, stood next to Axon with his henchman, Demetri behind him. Gornovek shifted at the sight of the alien and Demetri made a sound of distaste. Axon smiled faintly as he stepped forward.

“Good afternoon _Grand Admiral_.” The former Commander sneered

“Good afternoon.”

Axon inclined his head to Cran, “Major.”

Cran shot him a look of utter hatred.

“Shall we conduct our business?” Thrawn asked.

Ah, always no-nonsense. Axon wouldn’t even be allowed time to gloat. At least not now…

_Later._

Gornovek motioned for his two female companions as Demetri ascended the steps of the plane. Gornovek was still giving instructions to Tatiana and Serena when the other Russian exited the plane dragging Elinor Savona with her hands bound and a black cloth blinding her from recognizing her surroundings – she was resisting _as usual_.

Once Demetri had her on level ground, he ripped the cloth bag from her head, not caring to be gentle. She squinted and blinked and even before her eyes adjusted to the sudden stimulus, they focused on Thrawn.

Axon watched the Grand Admiral. There was no reaction.

Cold. Unfeeling. Perhaps he didn’t care as much for the woman as Axon had thought. Elinor on the other hand did not much care about his reaction; intent on warning him of his impending doom.

“Thrawn! NO! Go back! He’s after the Chimaera. Go! Thrawn Ple-“ The cloth previously used to blind her was used by Demetri to gag her. It was tied roughly, with her shaking her head and her muffled screams still coming uselessly.

Axon smiled slightly, “Don’t mind her, she’s been under a lot of stress lately.”

Neither Thrawn nor Cran said anything but the Major looked as though he were preparing to commit murder. Axon found this fortunate, the greater the emotional upset a person suffered the more likely that person was to make a mistake.

“Let’s begin by discussing the conditions of our business.” Axon produced a small device from his belt and activated it – a CT10 monitoring device.

The CT10 immediately traveled across the distance separating the two groups, about 50 yards. It traveled up the ramp of the transport. While the Russians kept their eyes on the two Imperials, Axon watched the images of the inside of the ship on his datapad. Sensors indicated no explosive material, no bio or radiological hazards and no other traps of any kind.

The E-11s were on repulsor sleds, easy to push or pull and very maneuverable, as agreed upon. There were two of them – stacked high with creates. An excellent start to an Empire.

Axon gestured to Gornovek’s two girlfriends, “Mr. Gornovek’s assistants will walk to you, they will enter your ship and take the repulsor sleds with our _possessions_. Upon exiting they will relieve you of your weapons and you will be given one of the BlastTech E-11s from the stock for…your own safety.” The Russian’s behind him laughed at this, and Axon felt a stab of annoyance.

He would be done with them eventually.

Axon continued. “Prior to their departure from your side, we will release your _possession_.” – another round of laughter from the men behind him – “Dr. Savona will stand at the halfway point and await further instructions. Gornovek’s assistants will meet her at the halfway point from there they will begin walking to the appropriate party.”

Axon paused and inhaled the damp humid air slowly, deeply. “Do you understand.”

“Yes.” Thrawn bent his head solemnly.

Axon had the bastard. He would have all the cards in his hand soon.

Very soon.

 

Elinor tried to scream. Tried to tell him to get out. She was not worth the Chimaera, not worth the planet and certainly not worth him dying.

Couldn’t he see that?

She watched as the two trophy women walked in those ridiculous shoes across the space between Axon’s party and Thrawn. She hated herself for having this happen. Why hadn’t she known?

_No dreams, Elinor!_

If she hadn’t smothered her dreams and visions with the medicine would that have changed anything? She would never know.

Tatiana and Serena had made it to the transport’s ramp with Thrawn watching Axon, and Cran watching the women. Not five minutes later, both Russians descended from the hatch pushing one sled each.

Tatiana, who had the most boxes on her repulsor, stopped next to Thrawn, he opened the top box which had only one E-11 in it - Elinor noted during her hunt for tibanna there were usually two per box.

He nodded a curt acknowledgment to her and handed her his service weapon. Cran did the same.

Gornovek called out to Tatiana and Serena in Russian. They were to stay in the current location until Elinor made it to the halfway point.

Demetri cautiously removed the hand cuffs and Elinor took some satisfaction that he was at least leery of her. She straightened her shoulders and rubbed her wrists sending the henchmen a glare as she was ushered to Axon’s side. Axon grabbed the back of her neck as Yuri Gornovek looked on.

“Dr. Savona, it was a pleasure. We look forward to seeing you again.” Gornovek’s smile was almost kind.

“Go to hell.” Elinor bit out.

Axon tutted at her. “Such language does not become someone who shares an Imperial’s bed.” He pushed her out in front of him roughly. “Now. Walk” he growled menacingly.

And thus, started the long uneasy process of traveling to an arbitrary “half-way point.” Elinor became painfully aware of the tiny torture devises clamped on her feet as well as the after effects of the Percocet. That is, until she focused on her final destination…

She kept her eyes on him; she was walking to him.

There was only him and his red eyes remained on her. Ellie didn’t even notice it was raining; a misty sort of rain, hot and muggy. She didn’t feel herself shaking with the exertion of walking, or the pain she at felt earlier from the bruises and, what she supposed, where cracked ribs from Axon’s previous fit of rage.

“STOP,” Axon’s voice called out.

 

Thrawn watched as she made her way toward him.

She looked haggard, although it was clear they tried to cover the evidence of Axon’s savagery and make her look a form of presentable only Yuri Gornovek would find appealing. He kept his eyes on hers as she seemed to gather some level of strength.

Vengeance was considered a natural part of warfare. Reactive measures after an attack were justifiable and expected. It was when that reprisal became personnel, that its use was considered repugnant to Thrawn. He found egomaniacal military leaders juvenile, unwilling to admit when their plans were flawed, unable to see the error in their tactics.

However, as he looked across at Elinor, the thought of bringing Axon and Gornovek to justice made him feel a disturbing amount of satisfaction.

Her eyes seemed to dilate as she got closer. She no longer seemed as tired and her pace increased slightly. Axon seemed to notice her increase in speed because he demanded she stop. Her eyes changed then, they flashed in pain as her face contorted and she reached out her hand to him as if he were just out of reach and not still meters away.

Gornovek stepped forward, “Tatiana, Serena, GO!”

The two women who had been standing silently by Major Cran started to move forward, pushing the repulsor sleds easily toward Elinor. She kept her eyes on Thrawn, until Tatiana and Serena were almost on her. She shot them a sour look as they came to stand next to her but facing the opposite way.

Axon once again called out.

“STOP!”

 

He smiled and looked over at Gornovek, who nodded.

The still, humid air was punctured by a shrill ring of a cell phone. Serena looked down at her ample bosom and pulled the communication device from her _assets._

“Hello, this is Gornovek Consulting Firm, how can I help you?” her Russian accent completely gone.

“Yes, sir. Of course, she’s here now. I will turn you over to her.” Serena smiled sweetly as she offered Dr. Savona the phone.

Savona scowled acerbically at the other woman, and hesitantly, as if it was infected by a hive virus, took it from Serena’s hand. “Who is it?”

“Someone you’ll want to talk to. It is Mr. Axon’s insurance policy.” Serena shrugged as she readjusted her cleavage.

She held the apparatus up to her ear. “Hello?”

 

“Hello?”

“Ellie? Ellie!”

“DREW!” She sobbed, she felt her face contort with emotion. “Drew! What’s going on?”

“Ta hell with me, where t’ hell you been? Ya got the whole damn state, lookin’ fer ya! I just had ‘n FBI guy here givin’ me ‘n update on yer case. Said I might find ya at this number. Wha’ t’ hell Ellie, I been goin’ out of my mi-“

“Drew, listen! That wasn’t an FBI agent. I’m not – “ Serena started shaking her head emphatically NO. Suddenly Elinor understood what the Russian meant about “insurance policy.”

“- it was a co-worker. I’m working on some…top-secret things for the government.” She was trying to control her breathing but was failing. She looked across at Thrawn in desperation, searching for some guidance on how to proceed. He wasn’t looking at her but was studying Axon and Gornovek, behind her.

“Ellie, ya need to stop this bullshit an’ come home. Yer weird friends from TES have even been out here, that one guy scared t’ chickens stupid.” Drew continued. “Everyone a us is worried ‘bout ya. Get yer educated ass home.”

Through hysterical sobs as he rattle on about what had happened while she was gone, Elinor was able to hold her breath long enough to push out a response, “I’ll be home as soon as I can Drew. I have to go. I love you.”

“Love ya too, Ellie.”

Another deep breath so he wouldn’t know she was panic-stricken, “Bye.”

A click and the nothingness of a dead line allowed her to unleash the scream of frustration and despair she felt.

“How do you like my insurance policy, Dr. Savona?” Axon taunted behind her. “Your brother is such a trusting person…so much like yourself. It’s quite pathetic, really.”

She was shaking with rage and she couldn’t bring herself to look across at the man she loved. Would he understand? Would Thrawn ever know, how much she loved him?

“You have a choice, Dr. Savona. Come with us, or your brother will die.”

Elinor finally looked up at the Grand Admiral in pristine white. She brushed the tears away from her face and inhaled deeply. His eyes had shifted back to her and there was no judgement, no accusation, and no anger in them. Instead there was only understanding – he knew.

She smiled slightly and turned her head partially so that Axon would be sure to hear her clear, calm reply.

“Mr. Axon, are you familiar with multicollinearity?”

“We don’t care, woman. Make decision! I can have your broth-“ Axon cut Gornovek off with a slashing motion.

She turned her head back to face forward and noticed the deep frown on Thrawn’s face – maybe he didn’t know, what she had planned.

_If you survive this, you’re never wearing heels every again, Elinor!_

She quickly slid behind Serena and Tatiana both still in position near the repulsor sleds. She slammed her dagger like heel into Tatianna’s right calf and then used her other heel on Serena’s. Both women screamed – blurting out a string of expletives; all in Russian, Elinor presumed.

Elinor took the initiative during the short time during which the two Barbie dolls were incapacitated, and their keepers stood squinting in the mist trying to determine if the fairer sex had just stepped in mud or something was actually wrong. She slyly removed the lid off one of the top boxes, on Serena’s sled and grabbed an E-11.

Axon, raised his blaster and belatedly realizing within an instant, he no longer had all the cards in his hand. Gornovek, Demetri and the other six Russians outside of the plane responded by lifting their primitive guns a fraction of a second later.

Elinor pushed the other women forward now that she had the E-11, she truly didn’t want to hurt anyone. She hated guns and detested violence, but this was the only way. Before the two could run too far ahead though, she squatted down and made sure to shove the barrel of the blaster snuggly under her chin. She released the safety and held her thumb other the trigger.

_Steady, Elinor._

“HOLD!” Axon’s eye’s widened when he saw what she was doing. He’s eyes snapped up to Thrawn who had his weapon raised and pointed at him. Cran had shifted to stand closer to the Grand Admiral.

There was a very long silence, during which time, Serena and Tatiana limped over pushing the repulsor sleds. The other Russians immediately opened the creates and exchanged their ridiculous toys for the best Imperial stormtrooper weaponry. Demetri grabbed the two service weapons Thrawn and Cran had handed over and passed one of them to his boss.

It was now, a standoff.

 

The Chiss watched as she swung around behind the women pushing the sleds. He was pleased to know he had predicted her actions correctly. Thrawn had been surprised when she had struck out at Martin Tassi when he threatened her in the park so many months prior. Further study corrected this misunderstanding. Months of watching her, talking with her…her intellect and reasoning, even the way she held him.

She was fierce.

Elinor Savona was a fighter and Grand Admiral Thrawn was depending on it.

Axon was the first to break the silence. “Dr. Savona, clearly you have a plan, I’d like to hear it.”

Elinor laughed bitterly, “You need me to fix the Chimaera. Without me, neither of you get what you want.”

“We’re listening.” Axon sighed, obviously not happy over the turn of events.

“You will dispose of all the tibanna from the blasters you just received. Thrawn will inform Captain Pellaeon to dispose of all remaining tibanna currently on the ship.”

Axon smirked. “That defeats the purpose of an Imperial Star Destroyer, my dear.”

“The purpose of the Chimaera will be for you to get the hell out of this solar system.” Elinor bellowed, “If you think about so much as projecting a toilet seat at my planet, I’ll engineer a way to turn the ship into dust.”

“You. Wouldn’t. Dare.” Axon bit out.

“If you don’t think so, then you better get used to vodka.”

“What about him?” Axon gestured to Thrawn.

“He goes free.”

Axon laughed loudly and then shifted his aim ever so slightly.

Elinor saw…closed her eyes….

_Thrawn. I love you._

…and pulled the trigger.

Nothing happened.

Axon shot her in the shoulder opposite of where the E-11 was braced, sending her backwards. An eighth of a second later, the clearing erupted in a firefight. It wasn’t as large and as one-sided as Elinor expected, though…

 

Her head jerked back followed closely by the rest of her body, the blaster was jarred from her grasp and the flesh of her bare shoulder was blackened.

“Major, with me!” Thrawn barked as he ran toward her.

Axon started toward her as well, but with the assurance he had taken back the advantage. The Russian’s behind him, anxious to use their new weapons trained them on Thrawn and began firing – with no result.

Several started rechecking the safety.

Nothing.

Demetri and Gornovek tried to fire their own weapons. With a loud pop, both blasters exploded leaving both men writhing in agony. Axon suddenly realized he was not likely to reach Elinor before Thrawn did. He stopped lined up his blaster on the Grand Admiral and fired.

A blue orb, about 10 meters away from the Chiss suddenly flared into existence and Axon’s shot ricocheted up and away from the two Imperials advancing toward the injured woman.

The E-11s were defective, likely the alien had siphoned all the tibanna out of them. The Russian’s were useless. He would likely not be able to steal Elinor Savona again.

But he could still hurt her and through her, Thrawn. He turned around and ran back to the plane.

 

Thrawn and Cran had reached Elinor to cover her with the TIE Defender deflector shield just as the remaining Russians gave up on their defective blasters and returned to their primitive means of killing.

The loud pop of gunfire could be heard but the flying metal would stop at the shield’s parameter.

Cran gently hoisted Elinor up as Thrawn monitored the remaining attackers. Two had decided to rush the party in the hopes of physically overpowering them. The Chiss, grabbed the first man by his upper arm, spun him around, quickly bring his own center of mass to bare and snapped the man’s neck. He kicked the body aside in time to grab the next one rushing at him, by the throat hoisting him up and throwing him back.

The Russian coughed and sputtered but brought his weapon to bear; the Imperial Grand Admiral spun, kicking it away. Fortunately for his assailant, Thrawn was already on the move toward the transport making sure to provide shield coverage to Cran.

The Major scrambled to the cockpit of the Imperial transport as Thrawn assessed Elinor’s condition. She was alive but unconscious and in need of some time in the bacta tank.

The Russian’s were retreating to their airplane, helping the burned and battered looking Gornovek and Demetri. Axon was likely already on board. They would flee and hide, perhaps make another attempt at usurping command of the Chimaera or kidnapping Elinor, unless…

“Major, please contact the Chimaera and brief Captain Pellaeon on our status. Inform him that Axon is fleeing from our current location in an airplane. I would also like an update on the strike team.”

“Yes, sir.” Cran responded crisply.

Elinor stirred, groaned in pain and slipped back into unconsciousness. He smoothed her hair and brushed her cheek gently. She stirred again, this time opening her eyes and looking up at him. She smiled weakly.

“Thrawn.” She rasped.

“Rest.” He brushed her cheek again.

“What about Drew?” Tears welled in her eyes.

“Rest. Your brother is safe.” Thrawn assured her.

She sighed. She trusted him like she trusted no one else, ever before.

“I want to stay awake. I just want to see you.”

“You have always seen me.”

 

Stormtrooper Dizon’s current squad had not seen action for almost a year. He at least had gotten to do something besides drills onboard ship. This squad was just about rabid with excitement to be going down to the surface, if only on a watchful, protective assignment.

TX-437 noted that the man driving the tractor was eating some of the jerky, the entire crew of the Chimaera had become addicted too – really a trend he, himself had started. TX-601 started complaining about not getting enough of the stuff because 437 always ate it all. This prompted a sharp rebuke from 437.

Dizon, known by his squad mates as TC -704 was not originally part of this group but was brought in as a “special assignment”. The Grand Admiral himself wanted him involved in this one. The rest of the squad didn’t know that the man they were watching was Andrew Savona – Elinor’s brother.

Still…what could Dizon do that no other stormtrooper in the squad couldn’t?

“So, what exactly are we waiting for?” TX-596 asked from behind him as he studied the man through his macrobinoculars.

“The Grand Admiral thinks someone is going to try to come after this guy.”

“Why?” This from TX-797

Dizon shrugged. It would be better to not disclose Savona’s identity.

“Who knows.” TX-437 shrugged

“Ok, let me clarify my question: why do we care?” 797 queried.

Dizon put his binoculars down and turned to the other stormtrooper. “You got an issue trooper? You wanna question orders? Talk to the man in charge _after_ we get the job done if you have a burning desire to know.”

TX-797 grumbled under his breath but didn’t press the issue.

Finally, after four hours of watching, a vehicle drove up to the residence. Dizon had the squad brake up into two groups, one to approach from the west, another from the east. Entry and exit were blocked in the north-south direction.

Team #1, Dizon’s team, surrounded the west side of the house.

Dizon led the team over to the side of the house and hovered underneath a window. The faint sound of a conversation could be overheard. Apparently, the person that had arrived had given Andrew Savona information about his missing sister and he was very anxious to use it.

“Thank ya, I’ll try it, righ’ away an’ see if an’one there kin help me find ‘er.” This likely from Andrew Savona

“You’re welcome Mr. Savona. Please keep us informed.” Another man said.

Something was off…

The man left, and Team #2 monitored his departure while Dizon listened into Andrew’s call with his sister.

It was clear from the man’s tone that he was pleading and desperate; a few times his voice cracked with emotion.

He contacted the leader from Team #2 to visually confirm once again the visitor had left and to start scanning for any listening devises or explosives. His ear was still half on the conversation between the obviously distraught Andrew Savona and the Team #2 update when he heard the slight chatter of bored stormtroopers behind him…and in that steady dry hum of tedium he heard it. It was muttered sarcastically; flippantly.

“Poor Ellie Bean”

“Ok, both teams let’s move back to observation position. We’ll do individual patrols throughout the night, one-hour shifts, understood?”

“There were nods and quiet affirmatives as the squad moved back into cover – the wooded area one hundred yards away from the south side of the barn.

As they moved out, Dizon tracked the other trooper with his eyes. Andrew had just completed his conversation with Elinor when they got into their final positions. Once they had cover, he sent in TX-797 for first shift.

A few minutes in, Dizon commed the other trooper.

“What’s his status, 797?”

“He’s upstairs bathing, you want more details than that you’re going to have to get them yourself.”

“He’s not near a window?”

The stormtrooper next to him shifted.

“Uh, no.” 797 grunted

“Good.”

Dizon casually straightened his BlastTech E-11 and shot TX-437.

By the time the rest of the squad descended upon his location, Dizon already had his helmet removed.

Major Cran, and Dizon along with a host of officers and crewers on the Chimera knew what Andrew Savona jokingly called his sister.

There was only one other stormtrooper that knew, and Sawnor Rogyn lay dead.

 

Captain Pellaeon received word from Major Cran that the time had come. He stood by Lieutenant Pyrondi’s seat and nodded once. She smiled slightly and turned to the weapon’s console.

“Sir,” she looked up at Pellaeon. “There’s an Earth saying, that’s appropriate here, and I’d like to use it.”

Pellaeon looked at her quizzically. It amazed him how the crew had become attached to the so-called “culture” of the planet below them. “If it doesn’t hurt your aim Lieutenant, _I don’t care_.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” She grinned.

Pyrondi lined up the targeting sensor, it was trickier to do since the automatic function was non-functional. She focused on the target, matched its speed, adjusted for the depth and cloud cover which was increasing. The Lieutenant knew she had to act soon, the airplane was flying right into a thunderstorm which could offer it substantial cover from the Chimaera’s turbolasers, especially when they were only on sensor and not on auto lock.

Pyrondi took a deep breath. “Payback’s a bitch,” she whispered as she pulled back on the firing mechanism.

 

The green light from above was the strangest lightning anyone in the village had ever seen. There was a huge explosion. A few days later, Dvinji found it while hunting in the rainforest. It was metal. A few other pieces were found over the next several days. Beklenuwi said it was a plane, but it seemed so surreal to the villagers.

Could lightning even bring down an airplane?

For less than a week the question in the village had been whether the green light from above was truly lightning or something else. After only a few days a wedding was announced, a child was born and life moved on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi,
> 
> I know...anti-climatic...
> 
> Thrawn explains a little bit more to Elinor in the next chapter. Mostly why he insisted Yermentic relieve him of command...
> 
> The Grand Admiral seems to me like someone who appreciates "defense in depth"  
> If A then its still ok because I did B and C sort of deal...the guy is always 5000 steps ahead...I could never get into his mind, but this was my attempt...


	22. Recovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning:  
> Sex Education (yeah, you read that correctly)
> 
> In This Chapter:  
> Elinor is in Bacta  
> The Grand Admiral offers an explanation to Elinor.  
> An engineer gets a lesson in biology  
> Dr. Savona and crew begin the test plans  
> A new normal is disrupted when Elinor asks about what comes next  
> Pellaeon explains  
> Elinor knows the way back to Thrawn

 

The dream was elusive. Always shifting and morphing into a tangled web of images. Some were familiar – faces, locations, feelings, others were completely foreign. There was always one constant though; those piercing red eyes. Beautiful in their intensity and mysterious, despite the comfort they brought her.

When Elinor’s subconscious mind noted absently that those eyes had been searching for her at one point, she connected them with a name.

_Thrawn._

The name sent a surge of emotion through her. Elinor’s conscious mind fought with her own sleep addled, beaten body to claw herself awake. She opened her own brown eyes slowly and found herself under water. Her immediate reaction was to jerk herself further awake, flail and kick her way to the surface, but her body was so worn she couldn’t. She struggled to move her arms and legs as if they were pinned down with weights. Her ribs and shoulder ached.

Ellie closed her eyes, for what she imagined would be the last time ever.

This was it then? She would drown? After being abducted, shot multiple times, beaten, cleaned up to look like some sort of prize, only to be shot again after her brother was threatened to guarantee her compliance?

_Anti-climactic death, thy name is Elinor Savona._

She laughed. That was when she realized she was wearing a ventilator. Her eyes opened again slowly, her adrenal gland telling her not to buy into the lie that she might really live through this. Ellie opened her eyes wider and attempted to move again.

It hurt. It hurt like hell.

Suddenly Dr. Yermentic’s voice clucked from a speaker startling her enough to make her twitch, sending a fresh wave of pain through her torso.

“Knock that off!” Yermentic chided, “You have magnetic weights on so you don’t bob around like fish bait. If you’re patient and behave yourself, I’ll give you some slack.”

Elinor tried to peer around her but all she could see was water – at least it seemed like water, until the weight on her body slackened and she was able to move slightly. She flexed her wrists and ankles then her arms and legs. The fluid she was in was not water - it wasn’t viscous enough – Ellie found she could slice right through it – it offered little resistance to her motion. The resistance she had felt must have been from the weights.

“You still have restrictions, your shoulders, neck and diaphragm must remain in a certain position relative to each other, therefore you still must wear weights, but your other wounds are healed. You’re obviously sore but that will get better with time. I estimate you’ll be back to your old self in about a week, maybe two.”

Ellie opened her mouth to ask a question. Bubbles floated up out of her breathing apparatus.

“Sorry my dear, no talking for right now. Just bacta and rest. A few more hours in the Bad Bath – that’s what we call a dip in the bacta tank - and you’ll be ready for the outside. Ok?”

Elinor slowly eased forward and almost bumped into the clear glass of a concave tank. She felt a pinch of pain jolt through her ribs and she winced. She looked down at herself. She was wearing generic undergarments and had three black metal rings wrapped around her. One ring was around her hips, another thicker one sat high up on her waist and the thinnest ring was placed around her chest underneath her arms.

There was tension in her neck, so she moved her head up and immediately felt relief. She reached out to touch the glass – this must be how the fish in the aquarium feel, she thought dryly.

Elinor stared sadly at her own hand and caught movement behind it.

A flash of blue. Long fingers brushed up against the tank from the opposite side. The hand pressed up against the glass and the rest of him came into focus as he stepped forward. His Grand Admiral’s uniform was perfectly white, and his glowing red eyes were narrowed in concern.

He could not see the upturn of her lips to form the smile, but he saw it in her eyes.

 

Elinor spent the next week in sick bay. Yermentic checked on her ritualistically and with every visit she would ask, beg, plead to give her some time out of the three metallic rings that she had been wrapped in since waking up in the bacta tank. The doctor would look at her in concern, nod in understanding and make supportive sounds in the back of her throat but once Ellie would finish presenting her case about the cruelties of it all and the difficulty she had in traveling to the bathroom, etc., Yermentic would provider her a flat, bland, “No.”

“No?” Elinor really thought she had her this time around “No! Why not?”

“Because, he said so.” Yermentic pointed a finger toward the door where the Grand Admiral himself stood.

Elinor’s eyebrows rose. “Oh.”

“Yeah, ‘Oh’, she says,” Yermentic grumbled, “The doctor tells her ‘no’ and she throws a fit, her boyfriend tells her ‘no’ and everything’s porgs and posies”

Ellie bit her lip and blushed profusely as Thrawn gave the doctor a withering look.

“Doctor, a moment please?” Thrawn asked.

Yermentic arched her eyebrow, “Just one?”

Thrawn shot her another look, this one much more severe and the CMO rolled her eyes and stormed out of the room, keying the door behind her.

“She seems mad at you.” Elinor brought her eyes up to his face.

“Dr. Yermentic was given orders…she found to be unpleasant.” He said carefully.

Elinor questioned him with her eyes.

Thrawn sighed heavily as he brought a chair around to sit next to her.

It had become the new normal for him to visit her as often as he could in sick bay - sitting in a chair next to her bed. They would talk, he would often read to her from some of the books he’d accumulated over the years and tell her stories of his early career.

They had not spoken of what had transpired since she was abducted from the Chimaera; only confirming that her brother was safe.

He owed her an explanation.

Upon learning of her disappearance, Thrawn feared he had jeopardized himself as a commander. He was not certain he could adequately take on the mantel in which he had to consider his ship and crew while also fighting to save her, when he knew very well that Axon wanted the Chimaera. He had already set a plan into motion after the attempt on her life, but it was made further complicated by Axon’s betrayal and her kidnapping.

He no longer had the time to execute his original plan and had been struggling when Ezra Bridger committed to using his powers with the Force to extract all the tibanna out of the remaining E-11 blasters, rendering them useless. What would have taken weeks of work was accomplished in 16 hours thanks to the young Jedi. Thrawn anticipated that his own personal weapons would be confiscated and used some of the extracted tibanna to over pressurize them.

Concurrent with this work was a retrofit of a TIE Defender deflector shield generator. One of the shields Elinor had left was retrieved and the lead engineers and techs had reverse engineered a few things. They had used some of Elinor’s own insights on potential uses for the shield – besides what it was actually used for – and turned it into a personal shielding device capable of deflecting all non-biological material traveling at a ‘damaging speed’.

Upon relaying his plan to the short list of officers he had taken into his confidence, Pyrondi, Pellaeon, Cran, and Yermentic, there was uniform dislike of his strategy. Major Cran seemed the most irate and insisted he be allowed to accompany Thrawn to the surface, after the Grand Admiral had pressured Yermentic into relieving him of command. Yermentic was fiercely resistant to declaring the Chiss unfit for command due to “extreme duress” but in the end Thrawn was able to persuade her. It was yet another guarantee that Axon would never, at least, under _Imperial law_ , command the Chimaera.

Thrawn was not in command therefore, it was not his to give up.

Thrawn had also anticipated that Axon would need some hold over Elinor and so he sent a protective detail of stormtroopers to the Savona homestead. There had been the possibility that the rogue trooper Rogyn could try to infiltrate some part of the plan and the Grand Admiral expected it to be at the point where assurance of her help in fixing the Chimaera for Axon was needed.

Mr. Dizon (a stormtrooper, unbeknownst to Elinor) was the most familiar with Rogyn as a former associate and therefore offered a unique perspective on how the man may act based on what he knew. The threat from Rogyn was neutralized and Andrew Savona never knew the woods near his barn was a staging area for a squad of Imperial stormtroopers.

After hearing all of it, Elinor stared at her lap for a bit, then suddenly.

“What about Axon and Gornovek?” Panic in her eyes.

Thrawn smiled tightly.

“Jedi Bridger, felt compelled to store the extracted tibanna in a safe location. He chose the forward turbolaser tank.”

Elinor scowled, “That tank has a slow leak – I assumed liquid water at STP and got a calculated leak rate of 0.003 gallons per minute. That’s not really safe.”

Thrawn shrugged minutely. “The perforation in the tank was temporarily secured and dispositioned such that the reinforcement would hold for two iterations of the firing mechanism.”

“The…firing mechanism?”

“Former Lieutenant Pyrondi, required only one.”

“Wait, _former_? What happened to Crissa?” Elinor shrieked, and she frantically tried to get up.

Thrawn frowned, “I promoted her to Lieutenant Commander.”

He had stood up to block her from getting off the bed and she was near to him now. She looked up at him with wide eyes, her lips slightly parted.

“Oh…oh..” she sighed heavily, “Oh...” she shook her head to clear it and stammered “So – um, so Axon was shot?”

“In a manner of speaking,” Thrawn smiled faintly, “His airplane was shot down over a remote sparsely populated area. The indigenous peoples of the region are considered primitive and do not see much of your technological advancements. The turbolaser fire from the Chimaera was misconstrued as part of a nearby electrical storm.”

She was very close to him, “Oh…well…you really do plan for everything, don’t you?”

“No. Not everything.”

He bent down and kissed her.

 

One additional day of being in the awkward magnetic devices – the equivalent of a cast for her torso - while extended release bacta patches and injections healed two hairline fractures on her ribs was all that she needed. Yermentic strode into her room with a smirk on her face after Thrawn had left from a short visit.

“Alright, now listen up.” The older woman seemed in a far better mood than she’d been in lately. “You’re being discharged. The Grand Admiral and I seem to agree on this matter.”

Elinor didn’t have time to school her expression. She grinned.

“Wipe that smile off your face, Dr. Savona.” Yermentic said drily, “You have restrictions for the next two days.”

Elinor’s smile slipped only slightly.

“No walking or standing for excessive periods of time, no bending, no picking anything up, you may feed yourself of course – normal diet but no alcohol, you should have supervision with you when you bathe, a personal assistant droid will do.”

Elinor was just about to ask what a droid was when…

“Oh, and limited amorous activity for the next few days.”

She could feel her cheeks start to warm as she bit her lower lip.

“Oh, come girl! I’m not a prudish grandmother, I’m a medical professional!” Yermentic pursed her lips in annoyance, “but based on your injuries, I would recommend you assume the dominating position for at least a week.”

Elinor’s face flamed, and she stared at her hands, balled into fists in her lap. She didn’t say anything as Yermentic tilted her head, obviously looking for an acknowledgement of understanding on the part of the patient. Finally, the doctor threw up her arms in utter frustration.

“Really? How do people on Earth reproduce?”

A half hour later, Elinor was beyond relieved to be leaving the medical wing after “the talk” – Imperial style. It had been far less _clinical_ than she was expecting.

 

The first place she went was her lab.

It was a flurry of activity which stopped immediately when she entered its cavernous expanse. There was dead silence, a calm before a storm, perhaps?

The eruption of cheers caused Elinor to jump, making her wince from the residual pain in her ribs. A wave of techs and engineers surged forward, and she had to hold out both her arms to warn them away from giving her bear hugs and hoisting her up into the air in triumphant jubilation.

That last thing she needed was to return to sick bay to hear more from Dr. Yermentic on acceptable sexual positions for certain injury types, dependent on gender and species.

Through the excited chatter and animated hyperbole, Ellie learned that the crews had successfully implemented the bonding method using a tibanna gas fired weld on the hyperdrive casing. There were only a few cleanup areas to deal with on Deck 22 and of course, Startup Testing – Phase III.

Dr. Elinor Savona took great professional pride in her work and had celebrated successes alongside colleagues before, but this…

_This was amazing!_

 

It was settled. Ellie would work on the Test Plan for each of the major systems and the lead engineers would review and approve it for each major system and then use it as input to perform test plans for the counterpart subsystems they were responsible for.

Common subsystems, Ellie would work on. The group would assemble for a massive engineering review followed by an Officer Review Board.

She was on her way to her quarters when the stormtrooper stopped her.

“Ma’am.”

“Yes?” Elinor had become leery of people she didn’t know so she kept her distance from the white armored man.

As if sensing her discomfort, the trooper removed his helmet with his free hand.

“Dizon!”

“Yes ma’am” Dizon smiled

“I understand I owe you a debt of gratitude for saving my brother.”

“No gratitude needed Dr. Savona.” Dizon nodded solemnly, “the Grand Admiral requests your presence at his office, ma’am. I’m to escort you.”

Her mind still very much on Yermentic’s restrictions and the warmth slowly creeping into her cheeks, she bobbed her head and followed Dizon to the Grand Admiral’s office.

 

“You approve?”

She grinned. How could she not? Many of the pieces he had collected were breathtaking. There was a vase in particular that drew her in, a green and blue mosaic carved on the lip with strange markings – maybe a language around the squat diameter – from a place called Alderaan.

“Of course!”

“I also have extensive holographic images from several galleries on Coruscant.”

Elinor stopped. “Real holograms?”

He smiled tightly. Saying the Grand Admiral was fond of art was an extreme understatement. She realized, her primitive obsession with it being holographic was probably seen as insulting to him.

“I’m so sorry!” she gasped

“I am not offended.” Thrawn said soothingly, “I do have more paintings in my private quarters, if you would prefer a more tangible medium.”

_Private quarters. Tangible medium._

She swallowed hard and Thrawn arched an eyebrow.

“You are troubled?” he moved closer to her.

“I have to be on top.” She blurted out, the freckles on her face had likely disappeared; blending into the red that was pouring heat from her cheeks.

He stepped even closer to her and bowed his head, whispering in her ear with a sly smirk, “That can be arranged.”

 

She slept in his bed every night, her scent lingering on his uniform, well after they parted from each other to go to their responsibilities; her to her Test Plan, he to command the Chimaera.

One night, Elinor was startled awake sitting upright in bed with a sheet covering her from the onset of a chill. The sudden movement woke her lover who lay next to her.

“Are you well?” Thrawn sat up and placed his hand on her back reassuringly. Had she had a seizure? Had some vision that disturbed her?

She turned to him with wide apologetic eyes, “I just realized something” she wailed “You’re the Jerk in Charge!”

Thrawn threw his head back and laughed, wrapped his arms around her and gently pulled her down to him.

 

They had settled into a new normal. After long days at the lab Elinor would retire to Thrawn’s personal quarters. They would spend hours talking as they once had while she had ripped apart machinery and believed he was just a bodyguard. Her test plans for all the major systems had been reviewed and approved by the lead engineers and she had finished up the common subsystems. They were in the process of a parallel engineering review of the entire plan when things fell apart.

“Where are you going once the Chimaera is up and running?” Elinor had asked after detailing her concerns over setpoint temperature of the chillers on Deck 3.

Thrawn paused.

He had been expecting the question for some time. The fact that it had remain unasked for so long seemed to be a good sign that she understood, at least on an academic level, that he would not be staying. Emotionally, she wasn’t ready to hear that he intended to return to the Empire, but it needed to be said.

“We will attempt a return to Imperial space.”

Her brow furrowed in confusion. “You will?”

He looked at her and watched the first flicker of emotion creep into her exterior. Her breathing rate increased just barely, her jaw tightened slightly, her eyes previously twinkling with delight during their conversation had suddenly turned wary.

“I just assumed from everything that you said…that you wouldn’t be going back.” Elinor tried to work moisture into her mouth.

“I believe the Empire can be salvaged and hope that my return will assist in such an effort.” Thrawn studied her. Her face had turned an ashen color and she was no longer looking at him. Her eyes were tight, and her jaw was clenched.

“I understand,” she said softly.

Thrawn cocked his head.

“I assume I am not coming with you?” Elinor meant it as a statement, but it came out sounding like a plea, which made her even more upset with herself.

Thrawn reached for her, “Elinor…”

“NO!” She stood up and glared at him, “I trusted you!”

Elinor turned and started to pace like a caged animal, “I trusted you! I trusted you with everything! With me! And now, you’re just going to leave! Just like everyone else.”

“Please, Elinor – “ Thrawn tried to intercept her but she moved away from him.

Suddenly she gasped, “You planned this too, didn’t you? Was all this some fun little puzzle to you?”

“No.” Thrawn said firmly as he stepped forward and held his hand out to her, “Elinor, please”

She backed away trembling, her chest heaving with emotion, she shook her head, “No…”

She left his quarters, somehow managing to starve off her frantic sobs until she rushed behind the door of her own room. She clutched her chest and once again, just as she did when she was 7 years old, Elinor Savona wondered if there was a way to fix a broken heart.

 

She left his quarters then.

She hadn’t come back that night or the next and he’d given thought to ordering her to his office to give him a brief on the final test plan when Captain Pellaeon arrived. The old captain was obviously anxious about the news he was bringing him which did not bode well for the headache currently threatening to settle itself behind Thrawn’s left temple.

“Sir, Dr. Savona has requested the Officer Review Board review the Chimaera’s Test Plan – apparently it’s completed.”

“Excellent Captain. When is the review?” Thrawn said mildly.

“Tomorrow.”

“Excuse me?” Thrawn felt the tension in his jaw

Pellaeon sighed tiredly, “She expressed an interest in completing the testing in a prompt and efficient manner.”

“I am sure.” Thrawn said dryly, “Captain, please inform Dr. Savona I wish to speak with her immediately.”

Pellaeon blinked confusedly but quickly acknowledged the order and left his commanding officer to ponder how he was going to reign in the Chimaera’s Head Engineer.

 

Crissa had figured it out. Elinor didn’t know how she knew but she knew.

She and the newly minted Lt. Commander Pyrondi had become…”friends” – could Elinor say that she had friends now?

Pyrondi stopped by the lab to confirm Ellie did not need anything further to support testing – the supply runs to the surface had resumed and she had been placed in charge of them. For a few moments the younger woman studied her and casually crossed her arms.

“Would you like to go to the mess and get lunch?” Pyrondi asked suddenly.

“Sure.”

Pyrondi’s expression didn’t change but Elinor could sense a ripple of surprise come from her and she craned her neck to look over at the Commander.

“Uh, let me put these plans away and I’ll be right there.”

“Right.” Pyrondi said dully.

They sat in the mess hall. Ellie would usually grab her meal and take it back to the lab, preferring to graze but she didn’t feel like being in an obvious location for _someone_ to find.

Elinor insisted early on that when Pyrondi was off duty she refer to her as “Elinor” because there was only so much “ma’am” she could take. Pyrondi in turn had offered up her first name for such occasions – so in a manner of speaking they were friends…

“You had a fight with him, didn’t you?” Crissa asked as Elinor unattractively shoved half a dinner roll into her mouth.

She took a very long time to chew. Pyrondi just stared at her.

“You look like you got kicked in the guts and I saw him in the morning brief and he doesn’t exactly seem normal either.”

Elinor was still chewing but gave her companion a curious look.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say he has a headache.”

Ellie snorted.

“Elinor! I’m not going to ask because it’s not my place..I think of you as a friend and he’s my commanding officer, but if this whole thing is going to work, we kind of need you both on the same side.”

She was still chewing but she shook her head.

“What?” Pyrondi asked.

“No.”

Pyrondi shook her head “No to what?”

“He wants his ship. He’ll get his ship. I’m a professional. I can do that.” Ellie waved dismissively at the mess hall around them, “I don’t have to kiss up to him, though.”

Crissa looked completely confused.

“He doesn’t care anything about me, Crissa.”

Pyrondi opened her mouth to argue the point but Elinor continued. “He’s leaving me behind when you go back.”

Her friend stopped, her argument left dead on her tongue.

“What?” Crissa asked incredulously.

She couldn’t hold it in anymore, Elinor bent her head and started to cry. Thankfully they were in a more private area of the mess hall – a booth on the wall near the farthest corner from the entrance. Pyrondi did her best to say all the comforting things people say when they watch someone have an emotional breakdown. Elinor still gasped out the story and cried achingly of how stupid and naive she was.

This was when Captain Pellaeon found her.

 

“Lieutenant Commander Pyrondi, may I have a moment with Dr. Savona, please?” Pellaeon was studying Elinor from the corner of his eye.

She blinked away the leftover tears and wet her lips, trying to seem as normal as possible.

“Of course, sir.” Pyrondi turned to Elinor “It was a pleasure, ma’am.”

“Yes, thank you Commander.” Ellie smiled weakly.

After Crissa left, the old captain pointed down at her empty seat. “May I?”

“Of course.”

Pellaeon sat in silence for some time staring at the crowd in the mess hall as Elinor fidgeted with her sleeves.

“I’ve been under his command for not quite two years. Pyrondi has been with him longer, so she would be able to tell you more or at least confirm what I suspect.” He continued to stare at the crewers as they sat and ate their meals – most of them enthusiastically talking with their shipmates, only a few off by themselves absently looking at a tablet or other device.

“He’s not like other commanders in our military. He’s not human. Non-humans aren’t usually seen in a positive light within the Navy, so as you can imagine, Thrawn had to be very good at his chosen profession. If he were human, any failure or infraction suffered would simply be swept up and away but for Thrawn, well...”

She was listening intently now.

“It’s scandal and corruption for people in power, they’re always trying to get more of it. It seems almost…universal,” he said finally looking at Elinor. “And Thrawn has power but what he lacks is the ability to be corrupted. He’s not interested in personal glory or conquest, he is interested in order and security – it makes him a target and it makes anyone who is close to him an even bigger target. Evid Axon proved that _you_ are the biggest risk where Thrawn is concerned. Take it from an old soldier, that loss of control does not please methodical minds like his, but what scares him most is that _you_ are at risk.”

Pellaeon studied her profile for a long linger moment and then lifted himself up from the booth. She tilted her head to look at him and he stood at attention, “Dr. Savona, I have been ordered to inform you Grand Admiral Thrawn requests you meet with him immediately. May I escort you to his office, ma’am.”

Elinor smiled softly, “No, Captain. I know how to get there.”

 

She stood with her back to the door. Her eyes were red rimmed and swollen – she had been weeping.

He schooled his features as he stood from his desk and walked to meet her. Those human eyes followed his every move – they were brown but when the light hit them a certain way there were flecks of green and gold in them. For the rest of his existence he would never forget their color.

She was completely silent but her sad, wary features said everything. Too much.

Finally, when the distance between them was too tantalizing and he could no longer stand with his hands clasped formally behind his back, he reached out to touched her. She did not shy away from him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi,
> 
> This seems like a let down after last chapter may...but it's supposed to be a coast down. I originally thought of the next chapter as being the last in the story.
> 
> There is a Part II which I'm still working on...I'm not sure I'll post it right away. I'd like to finish it and make sure there are no plot holes...
> 
> Not sure what to do...but then again I've been unsure about this whole thing so...just more of the same. 
> 
> Also: I discovered if you drink too much Diet Ginger Ale you can belch up to "dawn's early light" in the Star Spangled Banner. It's exhilarating and disgusting at the same time. I kid of course... I would never belch in such a way except during my Candidacy Exam (Elinor did something similar but she was embarrassed by it - see Chapter 14)
> 
> Happy New Year!


	23. Entanglement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings:  
> None
> 
> In This Chapter:  
> The Test Plan is approved  
> Elinor sees a micro-jump  
> Quantum Entanglement - a confession in the dark  
> Ezra reassures Elinor of her choice  
> Appreciation, Respect...and Love  
> The first to truly see her

 

They lay, tangled together desperate for it to never end. His lips pressed to her ear, telling her he loved her, adored her, could not live without her in every language he knew but her own. They spent the night trying to tell themselves it would be as it should be, in the end with her head on his shoulder and his arm draped protectively over her. In the end, nothing ever is the way it’s planned for…even for a Grand Admiral.

 

The Test Plan was officially approved by everyone from the system technicians all the way up to the Grand Admiral himself. It was Elinor’s opinion that the worst part was over – _doing_ the work was far more enjoyable than sitting around _talking_ about doing the work. There was also a lot of talk about how to record results and archive them for further study.

This seemed like a foreign concept to some of the younger technicians and was met by a strange sort of awe. Like a ritual was required. Indeed, everyone was treating the testing process with such formality, she joked she didn’t have anything to wear to “a ceremony.” Thrawn replied dryly that something would be provided to her on Test Day.

It was. And it was an Imperial Officers uniform free of rank plaque. An embroidered image of a Chimaera was on the arm band. It was snug in the bust but apparently, they were “usually” that way, per Crissa. Elinor hated the cap. Thrawn tutted at her, almost playfully, when she tried to push the annoying hat to the back of her head like a yarmulke.

She headed to the lab in her Test Day best and found everything was ready. A lightboard with status readouts of the entire ship was setup and waiting as was a set of coms for the lab team to track testing results. Elinor shook her head in amazement. To be a part of something so massive and so beyond her realm of technological awareness was unthinkable – it was like going out into the jungle with a knife and a roll of duct tape and building a sky scraper.

_How the hell did you do it, Elinor?_

The teams of technicians started to come in. Teams 1-8 started out into the field to work on their tests while Elinor and the leads tracked the progress occasionally, she or one of the leads would go out to check on something, but it was surprisingly smooth. Teams 9-11 and Teams 13-18 were next. Team 12 was still not reassembled after the death of four of its members, Tela implied they would likely retire the team number out of respect.

As the day progressed all 40 Tech Teams completed their tests in all states of operation. Things had gone surprisingly well. They were only one-hour post shift end. Why not try to fire up the whole system now since everything was warmed up?

Part of her wanted to, of course. The rest of her knew that as soon as the Chimaera roared to life, her life onboard it would come to an end shortly thereafter and she would return to her townhouse, to her park, to the sun on her face and the wind in her hair.

She didn’t want it. Not anymore.

She wanted to stay.

“I think it would be best, since the dampeners are holding steady – it would be good to test out the hyperdrive – the casing is good and it’s in vacuum, but I’d like a nice warm feeling about it before we make a proper jump. We can ask the Captain about a micro-jump?” Tela was saying.

Elinor bobbed her head absently biting her lip. “If you think that’s best.”

Tela nodded once and walked off to contact Pellaeon. Out of the corner of her eye she caught the movement of white and everyone around her stiffened.

“Grand Admiral on deck!” someone called out and all conversation stopped with everyone around her turning into flag poles.

“As you were.” Thrawn’s command voice projected such that every person could hear it… that or once one person relaxed and continued with their work the person next to them assumed it was safe for them to, as well. Either way the lab went back to the way it was before the flash of white.

“Dr. Savona, I understand you are considering performance of the final test.”

“We are.” She looked up at him sadly.

He studied her for a moment. “I will defer to you in this matter.”

She looked down at her feet then. It was the same thing – over and over – she wanted to stay, she couldn’t, he wanted her, he couldn’t have her, they would compromise by both being miserable – probably for the rest of their lives.

“I think she should do the test now.” She shallowed hard and looked up at him.

He nodded once. “Very well.”

 

The hyperdrive was a marvel and if Elinor had stayed longer, she would have committed herself to understanding it. The micro-jump was calculated in 3 minutes, which was according to Pellaeon an eon for a calculation of a route into hyperspace, but such was the technology they had available. They had gone from “Dude, you’re gettin’ a Dell” to going faster than the speed of light with just 5 months of work, the Captain could complain all he wanted, as far as Elinor was concerned.

It was still impressive.

They allowed her on the bridge to watch. It was one of the most beautiful things she’d ever seen but her stomach took note that the dampeners needed to be tuned a bit. They had ended up on the edge of the solar system, the nose of the ship was turned around to face back toward the sun and Ellie caught her breath.

After the second jump back toward the center of the system, Elinor could no longer curb the swell of emotion, she retired to her room. She had started packing up her books and CDs, apparently her Imperial employers would be paying for a moving company to help her with her possessions – loading, unloading, unpacking, etc. She would be provided her stipend and a bonus for completing her work in an “exemplary manner.”

The door chimed, and she brushed away the tears. She knew it would be him.

She melted into his arms and he buried his face into her neck inhaling deeply.

“Tell me what I can do, to make this easier.” He said softly.

She couldn’t bring herself to respond at first, instead keeping her face buried in his broad chest. He absently caressed the curve of her spine.

“Are you familiar with the concept of quantum entanglement” Elinor finally asked into the silence, “It’s a theory that two sub atomic particles, can become connected in such a way that they influence each other no matter how far apart they are – even if they’re all the way on the opposite ends of the universe.” There was another long pause. “Do you think I’ll ever see you again?”

Thrawn wanted so badly to come back for her one day, but in reality, it would never be safe for her. They could never have the normalcy of two beings in love, if he were in Imperial service. He had sworn an oath. His allegiance was set.

“I do not know.”

She considered this, then finally raised her head from his chest, her eyes searching and sad. He bent down and brushed his lips against hers. Soon their melancholy turned to desperation, once more they moved together as lovers in passion, but it was bittersweet.

This time, she watched him sleep – his powerful chest and shoulders moving rhythmically with his measured breathing. She cried silently as she watched him. Finally, Elinor closed her eyes to sleep but before she drifted off, she found the courage inside her to tell him.

“I love you” she whispered into the dark.

Her own eyes were covered by her heavy lids, so she did not see the pair of glowing red eyes that slowly opened upon hearing her confession.

 

She woke up the next morning early, he was still asleep in her bed. She grazed his forehead lightly with her lips and dressed hurriedly. Elinor took the very familiar route to her lab, one last time. The lights were dimmed, and she decided she had better not turn them up, it would only make the moment worse – to see memory after memory drift into her mind like wisps of smoke. A minute or two would be enough for her to have one last look around and then leave.

She turned to go and saw a figure near the door. She wasn’t startled so much as confused. Elinor hadn’t seen him since she told him she wanted nothing to do with this Force power they both seemed to possess. Was Ezra Bridger here to say goodbye or try to convince her to let go of her fear and unleash the torrent of dreams waiting below the surface?

“Hi Elinor.”

“Hi Ezra.” She nodded, “I didn’t get a chance to thank you for your help with the blasters. Thrawn said you were a big help.”

Ezra looked at her strangely, “He said that?”

She mimicked his expression, “Yes. Why?”

Ezra chuckled, “Nothing.”

There was an awkward pause.

“I’m leaving.” She fidgeted with her sleeve.

“Yeah, I know. I wanted to say good-bye and let you know that you should never be afraid.”

“Afraid?” she cocked her head slightly in question – a habit she picked up from Thrawn.

“You know what you are capable of, you know what it is, you don’t have to use it though. You’re on a different path and that’s ok. Everyone is different Elinor and you don’t have to be afraid…I just wanted you to know that.” Ezra looked at her sincerely and she once again felt relief over her decision to suppress the dreams.

“Thanks, Ezra. That’s a comfort.”

He smiled and nodded and walked out of the lab, likely to his hiding place on Deck 20.

 

The hanger bay was full, packed to the brim with officers, technicians, engineers, stormtroopers - everyone that could squeeze in. Only a single transport was ready for launch.

It was for her.

Thrawn walked by her side in silence, his head bowed. They stopped a few paces from the foot of the ramp.

Elinor turned. Behind him was Captain Pellaeon, Lt. Commander Pyrondi, Dr. Yermentic, the newly promoted Head Engineer, Commander Tela, Major Cran and the newly promoted Captain Dizon.

Tela stepped forward first and handed her a small silver box – sleek and shiny. “A token of the engineering team’s appreciation, a necklace of spare parts. We thought it would be appropriate for you since you hate to see things go to waste.” He smiled kindly, “Also on behalf of the Tech Teams. Team 12 is being retired. It is being renamed the Savona team and will be comprised of technicians deemed the most resourceful and ingenious at fixing emergent issues.”

Elinor swallowed hard. Tela stepped forward and gave her a hug. “Take care of yourself, Elinor.”

“Thank you,” she bobbed her head. Pellaeon, Pyrondi and Yermentic stepped forward next. Pyrondi held out an embroidered arm band - the image of a Chimaera. “Surely you won’t forget about us?” she quipped as the two embraced.

As the three stepped back Cran and Dizon called for a salute and the hanger bay stood at rigid attention.

He was the only one left.

Those red eyes followed her as she moved slowly to stand in front of him clutching her silver box and embroidered arm band. Slowly he unpinned his Grand Admirals rank plaque and offered it to her. She looked down at it, back up at him and shook her head.

“I can’t take that.”

“A token of my appreciation and respect” he stepped closer to her to whisper in her ear, “and love.”

A single tear trickled down her face. Elinor did not take her eyes off his as she put her trembling hand over the plaque. Her fingers brushed his warm skin and she gasped in agonized disbelief – surely, this couldn’t be the last time they touched - if he loved her, he wouldn’t send her away.

Would he?

Her fingers wrapped around the plaque and she gently lifted it away from him.

Somehow, in some way it was understood by some part of her that she needed to turn around and walk toward the transport. She stepped back from him, her eyes still on his.

She turned and ascended the ramp and when she reached the top, she looked out at them, a wave of black, blue, white, gray and olive green - blurry from her tears like a morbid impressionist’s painting. The Grand Admiral’s white stood out though. His brilliant blue skin, so warm to the touch could also be seen, as could his red eyes – those beautiful eyes from her dream so many months ago.

She sat down as Major Cran entered the transport’s cockpit. She caught one last look at him as the ramp retracted and the hatch closed. Elinor felt her breath coming out in heavy gusts and wheezes now and as the ship lifted off the deck, she could no longer contain her sobs.

The arrowhead frame of the Chimaera shot away from her at an unbelievable speed. The ship was massive, and she tried clinging to the image of it from her seat onboard the transport, as if she could somehow get back to him by clawing her way through vacuum and durasteel.

 

Elinor was going back to where she came from. But she would never see it in the same way.

Indeed, she would never see anything the same way again. The whole experience had changed her, just as every experience changes a person. The only thing she could do was try to make the best of it.

Thrawn would want that for her. After all, he was the first to really truly see her.

She liked to think he felt the same about her.

 

-End of Part I-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((sigh))
> 
> I'm so glad that's done.
> 
> I'm on the fence about leaving it here. I'm half way into writing a Part II but I'm not sure...
> 
> I started writing this when I was laid off from my job in mid-November. I was devastated and writing this silliness kinda helped me in some strange way. I've never done any "for fun writing" although I consider technical papers and calculations fun - but that's kinda my jam.  
> I'm hoping I can go back to "fixing things" soon - Elinor and I have that in common. Until then I'll continue working on Part II and make a decision once it's complete as to how truly stupid it really is.
> 
> Ok now for the BIG CONFESSION.   
> I have never seen the Rebels TV series.  
> Yes.  
> I know.  
> Blasphemy.  
> I have to, yes. Will I? yes. Now that I'm not fixing things I have the time. 
> 
> I still don't know what I'm doing.


	24. Prologue - Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings:  
> None 
> 
> In This Chapter:  
> A few days later...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello,
> 
> I gave it some thought and I figured *shrug* why not. I like to be complete and thorough, that includes making a fool of myself, so I decided to post the Prologue to Part II. 
> 
> Part II is still in the works and I won't post any more after the Prologue until after the whole thing is finished at which point I'll post in bulk. 
> 
> I'm still nervous about this. I still don't know what I'm doing and I'm still trying to get over the Diet Ginger Ale...shoulda stuck with the Diet Coke. 
> 
> If I'm doing any of this wrong - would someone somewhere please tell me? 
> 
> To those very kind individuals out there who seem to like this story: I'm very glad and I truly do appreciate your comments and kind words. They are particularly helpful now since my furlough (no, I didn't work for the federal government - Uck!) in mid-November, as I make my way back to "fixing things."
> 
> Thank you again for your patience as I bubble my way through this...
> 
> P.S. Oh! Forgot to apologize also for my stupid humor - I have a very self-deprecating sort of humor that I use to cover up my insecurities and my short attention sp- oh crap the door bell just rang..gotta go!

 

The first thing Elinor noticed was that her heart was beating erratically. Unsteady gallops, sudden stops, and loud thumps. There was discomfort too. The tightness in her chest gave way to a spasm of pain in her back and sides. She would have doubled over and groaned but instinctively knew she needed to be silent and still.

Odd, really…it was dark out.

Plenty of cover in the darkness and outside too in a wooded area.

She was trying to make herself small and hid behind a large tree, but the uneven ground under her feet kept on making her feet slip. Elinor was finding it hard to stay upright between the sliding around in the mud, the pain in her back plus the irregular pounding of her heart and the rising panic she felt over it all.

From her peripheral vision she saw movement, near.

_Too near._

The white armor of an Imperial stormtrooper could be discerned through the darkness and the thick vegetation. Her fear spiked.

_Why?_

Why would she be afraid of stormtroopers? This didn’t make sense...

She did her best to move back further into the tree, but the man’s head turned, and he spotted her. He raised his blaster, pointed it at her and without saying a word a burst of green energy erupted from the weapon and in that instant her heart leapt as if it would burst from her body and Elinor’s eyes snapped open. She sat bolt upright in her bed covered in sweat.

It was the second time she had the same dream in the three days since leaving the Chimaera.

 

He saw it happen too, but his eyes fluttered open in confused drowsiness.

They had decided to take some additional time bringing supplies up from the surface after Thrawn had deemed it necessary to let her go. The young Jedi had felt the pain and sadness come off her in waves. The Grand Admiral, normally so closed and hard to read was, from what Ezra could tell, in as much pain as she was. The emotions underneath the surface were of self-loathing, and deep regret but also there was a sense of certainty that he did the right thing – he was keeping her safe. The Jedi could not fault him for this and took no pleasure in the man’s pain.

As the wisps of confusion faded, he started to understand…realization struck suddenly.

Ezra Bridger was fully awake now and on his feet. The Chimaera had not yet left the system but was heading out at 0.6 sub-light past the fifth planet’s gravity well prior to making the jump. It would take a while to calculate the jump, given the technology the ship was equipped with now.

Regardless, the Chiss would likely need convincing. Ezra raced to the turbolifts and headed to the bridge of the Imperial Star Destroyer that had become his home.

 

He stared out at the fifth planet, the largest, and pondered his course of action upon his return to Imperial space. The fact that they had to _find_ Imperial space, first was not as troubling to him as it was to Captain Pellaeon. The Unknown Regions was rife with such areas; huge expanses of space where there was no known star chart. They would find resources along the way to replenish their supplies. Although, it may take years, eventually, they would find their way back.

It had been a year since their capture over Lothal.

There was no sign of the rest of the 7th Fleet and Thrawn suspected they required a level of assistance beyond that which the Chimaera could provide them. Much could have happened within the year they were away.

Indeed, if Ezra Bridger was to be believed, the Death Star had become operational and had shortly thereafter been destroyed. This would have likely provoked the Empire into a retaliatory strike against whomever had defeated the battle station. Thrawn assumed it was the Rebels, although he would not discount inside Imperial agents sabotaging the project from within; an effort to stop Grand Moff Tarkin for usurping power from the Emperor.

Either way, Palpatine would blame the Rebellion for the destruction of the station and the deaths of hundreds of thousands of loyal Imperial service men and women, thus using it as a rallying cry.

Such musings occupied his mind in a favorable way. When not thinking of the future, the Grand Admiral spent too much time focusing on the past year.

Too much time.

Again, the familiar pang of loss struck him. He knew it would fade in time, but it would never truly leave him. It was just one more scar.

He clenched his fist, reflexively. The headache was back. He slept fitfully without her. Of course, he no longer slept in his bed, her scent was everywhere. If he took a deep breath now, he could still smell her on his uniform.

He slept in his office, in his chair, staring into nothingness and hating himself for sending her away. He inhaled deeply and the pain in his head intensified.

_Elinor_

He closed his eyes.

“Sir, we have started the calculation.” Pellaeon said from behind him.

“Thank you, Captain.”

“Commander Klary is working with Lieutenant Commander Pyrondi to tune the dampeners a bit more, Elin – ah Dr. Savona indicated they should be retuned before every jump.”

“Yes. Thank you, Captain. Please inform me when the calculation is complete.”

“Yes. S-“

Just then, one of the stormtroopers guarding the door to the bridge barked out orders to the other three. All of them were pointing their blasters at the intruder who had burst onto the Chimaera’s bridge out of breath and wild eyed. And given Ezra Bridger’s previous visits to the bridge, it was understandable why the stormtroopers were so uneasy.

Bridger didn’t even seem to notice the four weapons pointed at him, he saw the Chiss scrutinizing him from the command walk way and started for him.

“HALT!”

“It’s quite alright.” Thrawn assured the guard, “Jedi Bridger and I are on speaking terms.” The Grand Admiral added dryly.

“Yeah. Like a Loth-cat and a field mouse.” Ezra rolled his eyes.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, Bridger?”

“We need to go back.”

Both of Thrawn’s eye brows rose and Ezra had been around the Chiss long enough to take this as his surprised amusement/skeptical look. Every time Thrawn would use the “eyebrow look” the young Jedi had to resist the urge to use the Force to smack the man’s forehead – it vexed him to no end. Of course, use of the Force in such a way was not _right_ …but it was amusing to think about, nonetheless.

“That is not possible.”

“She needs you.” Ezra stated flatly.

Thrawn’s eyes narrowed. The Grand Admiral studied him and crossed his arms over his chest. Captain Pellaeon stood between the two, remembering all too well what had happened the last time Ezra Bridger got mouthy with Thrawn. The boy was either stupid or sure of himself. Pellaeon was willing to bet ten credits on stupid.

“Dr. Savona is quite capable of taking care of –“

“I’m not just talking about Elinor!” Bridger burst out looking annoyed.

And there was the “eyebrow look.” Ezra gritted his teeth. The young Jedi moved his eyes ever so slightly to the Captain and back to Thrawn.

“Thrawn, you and I need to talk.” Ezra ground out.

“Wait just a minute!” Pellaeon’s ire was instant, “Just who do you think you’re talking to?”

Thrawn raised a hand to gently silence the Captain and his eyebrows settled into a furrow. The Chiss was starting to lose patience with the boy.

“Captain, a moment please.” Thrawn’s voice was quiet and icy as he glared at Ezra.

“Yes, sir.” Pellaeon gave the Jedi one last condescending look and headed to the navigation station.

Yes, Pellaeon decide, definitely ten credits on stupid.

The Grand Admiral waited until the Captain was out of earshot.

“If you do not mean Elinor, then who?” Thrawn hissed as he stepped forward menacingly, towering over Ezra.

It was the first time since having the dream that he realized the Chiss may not appreciate hearing the news from him – they were not exactly friends. Perhaps it would be best to convince him to contact Elinor, so she could tell him.

_No._

She didn’t even know…yet.

 

Just as Ezra Bridger left the bridge, Commander Klary indicated that the calculation for the jump to hyperspace was 15% completed. Pellaeon thought it best to wait on giving the Grand Admiral an update. His commanding officer seemed pensive and the Captain sensed he longed for solitude.

Thrawn was in love with her.

They all had been in some way. Elinor Savona had wormed her way into all their hearts. She had been the longshot, the unlikely winner, someone you wanted desperately to win even though the odds were always against her. She was a fighter and she put her heart into everything she did.

She would have been one hell of an Imperial.

The Captain heard soft footfalls behind him and turned to find the Grand Admiral at his side.

“Sir?”

He looked shaken to the core, his mouth slight ajar and he blinked slowly.

“Sir, are you well?” Pellaeon asked in mild alarm. This drew looks from Klary and Pyrondi.

“Yes.” The Chiss said absently.

Pellaeon, Klary and Pyrondi stared at him and exchanged looks, “Sir, perhaps, I should call Dr. Yermentic?”

Thrawn sighed deeply, “No, Captain. That is not necessary.”

There was a long pause.

Finally Thrawn seemed to come out of his reverie, “Commander Klary?”

“Yes, Sir?” Klary responded crisply.

“Please cancel the calculation for the jump into hyperspace.”

“Uh – yes sir.” Klary looked confusedly over at the Captain who nodded at her.

“Lieutenant Commander Pyrondi, please lay in a course back to Earth, take up our previous position behind the moon. Surveillance posture. Starboard drift toward the dark side to be cautious.”

“Yes sir.” Pyrondi immediately began plotting the course.

“Captain, with me.” Thrawn beckoned him to follow, “I seek advice on a certain matter.”


	25. Christmas Lights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings:  
> Language 
> 
> In This Chapter:  
> Elinor is back but struggling

 

Elinor had to hand it to the Imperials, they were thorough. Everything was right back where it was before she left; the books on the shelves, the pictures on the mantle, her arm chair. They even dusted the furniture and restocked her refrigerator and pantry.

It was like it never happened.

She shuffled around her townhouse morosely for the first three days, then finally decided she needed to start letting the world know she was back. She called Drew.

“I’m comin’ in t’ Uptown to buy some stuff. Mind if I come see ya?”

“Of course not! You’re always welcome!”

“I missed ya Ellie! Ya had us all in a nuthouse fer a while”

“Drew, I told you I’d be gone for a while.”

“Yeah, but ya never told me how long, damn it!” he was starting to get angry now.

“I’m sorry. We’ll talk more when you get here, Ok?” she soothed.

“Right, ya want me t’ bring anything?”

“Fresh eggs?”

There was a chuckle. Drew new she loved fresh eggs – straight from the chicken - they really did taste different than the ones you bought in the store. One of her first jobs on the farm – she must have been two or three at the time - was to collect eggs every morning.

“Will do.”

Next, she called the post office to end the hold on her mail and to receive her five and a half months of fliers requesting that she join this gym or visit this dentist office for a beautiful smile. If she needed furniture or a greasy burger there would be hundreds of coupons as well as a ton of ads to vote for this person or that. Thankfully Elinor had a giant recycle bin.

Finally, she got to probably, what would be, the most _unpleasant_ of the activities.

She called Fink.

“ELINOR ELIZABETH SAVONA, WHERE THE FUCK HAVE YOU BEEN????”

_Very unpleasant._

“Hi Fink.” She said sheepishly.

“We have been looking all over for you! We put your face on a fucking milk carton for God sakes!”

“I told you I was going away for a –“

“No no no no no! I’m coming over right now!!!” and with that he hung up the phone.

An hour later everything went straight to hell in a hand basket.

 

When he came, he brought backup.

Allen, Mark, Tate and Rick all stood on her door step looking like human storm clouds.

“What the fuck, Savona?” Rick waved his hands exaggeratedly.

Tate crossed his arms over his chest and Mark tutted at her and shook his head as she invited them all in. Allen was the only one who seemed to have a sympathetic “I’m-not-part-of-this” look but even _it_ was half sour, likely due to all the stress Fink had been under over her disappearance.

“Hi guys” she said softly.

She took their coats and hung them up in the closet down the hall and turned the kettle on to boil water for hot chocolate.

“Screw coco, got scotch?” Mark asked.

Elinor shook her head blankly.

“Do you know how worried we all were about you?” Tate asked her accusingly.

She looked down at her feet and bit her lip. She didn’t really have friends, at least she didn’t think she did until the Chimaera. Then, everything changed. Elinor knew that _now_. The men in her living room were her _friends_. They had always been there, and she had left them.

She knew what it was like to be left alone.

“I’m so sorry.”

They stared at her in amazement and she dared to look up at them. Each of them looked appalled.

Was she that terrible a person?

“Ellie, it’s -please don’t cry.” Allen took both of her hands.

_Cry?_ _She was crying?_

Sure, enough. She swiped at her face and the salty stickiness of tears was there, almost ever present lately, it seemed.

“What happened to you?” Rick asked.

Allen led her gently to the couch and she began to tell them the rehearsed story she, Major Cran and Commander Pyrondi had agreed to.

“So, you can’t tell us what the project was, only that it was government funded?” Mark squinted.

Elinor bobbed her head.

“Was it strictly military?”

Elinor shrugged, “They never told me, and we were sequestered on base.”

“Where was the base?” Fink asked skeptically

“Somewhere in the mountains.”

“Somewhere…you mean, you didn’t even know exactly where you were?” Fink was incredulous, “Elinor, that’s kidnapping! The federal government kidnapped you!”

She shrugged and laughed, “They paid well though. I don’t have to work for the next five years if I don’t want to.”

Rick whistled lowly, “Damn I wish someone from the government would kidnap me.”

“Rick this isn’t funny!” Fink smacked his shoulder.

“Still, she’s back. She’s safe. We’re happy to see you Ellie.” Mark smiled reassuringly

She sighed and gave him a hug.

“Thanks Mark.”

It was then, Elinor’s friends knew _something_ had happened to her while she was away. She had changed dramatically. The old Elinor Savona did not like to be touched. She would have bristled at the idea of embracing someone, even a “friend.” Perhaps, all the stress of not knowing where she was for the last 5 months had been for naught and her experience with the government project had helped her appreciate things, she didn’t realize she had.

Her _friends_ were happy for her.

 

Drew brought the eggs just as he said he would. She gave him a huge hug as soon as she opened the door causing him to almost drop them. Elinor ushered him inside out of the cold and immediately set about making scrambled eggs.

Of course, while she reacquainted herself with her kitchen, she tried to answer all her brother’s questions, once again using the rehearsed story about being sequestered in the mountains on a secret base to work on a top-secret project for the federal government.

“Welp, that sounds ‘lot like one a those spy books Dad use t’ read. Remember those?”

Elinor laughed, “That’s what I thought while it was happening. No one would ever believe me, if I told them about some of this stuff!”

Drew smiled lopsidedly at her as she sighed. “So how have you been?” she asked him.

He shrugged, “Same ol’ same ol’”

“And what does that mean?”

There was a long pause.

“Miranda’s back in rehab.”

Elinor stopped cracking the eggs and turned to her brother. Miranda was her brother’s ex-wife. She had struggled with addition when they were still in high school but had gotten clean. Drew had been hopelessly in love with her even then. They had gotten married and had a baby on the way when Miranda fell off the wagon.

Hard.

She had lost the baby.

Thankfully their father had died before Miranda’s fall and while the frail old man still had a grandchild on the way. Drew swore he would take care of her and had forgiven her instantly; he was that much in love with her. Elinor couldn’t stand to look at her, choosing to make short trips out to the farm for visits with her brother. She was so judgmental when she was younger.

What finally broke Andrew’s heart was when she ran away with her dealer and filed for divorce a month later. He signed the divorce papers three years ago, believing that was what she truly wanted, but Elinor knew he still loved her. It was a hurt kind of love, though.

“I’m sorry, Drew. When?”

“She fell off again ‘bout 7 months ago.” Drew mumbled.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Welp, the last time we talked ya kinda had a lot on yer mind.” He shrugged, “Din’t wanna complicate it.”

“You are never a complication, Andrew.” Elinor sat down next to him, “Have you talked to her?”

“Na, she dunn’t wanna talk to me!” he shook his head.

“Have you tried?”

“’Randa and I are like oil and water, Ellie. I’m not gettin’ involved in all that. Last I knew she was gettin’ married to Randy, that piece a shit dealer boyfriend a hers.” He snapped, “I’m not up fer a soap opera. I had my say an’ I’m done.”

Ellie nodded, “I understand.”

“Do ya? Do ya really?” Drew snapped at her.

She drew back, startled by his fierceness. Her brother had always been gentle. Their dispositions were very similar, but Drew had a charming, witty personality – something Ellie was always envious of. She couldn’t charm a cat with catnip and her wit was as cutting as a spoon.

“Yes. Actually, I do.” She said quietly.

Drew seem to wilt a little and then completely. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s ok, Drew. I know you hurt.” She hugged him as she felt tears start to well in her eyes.

She’d been doing a lot of crying lately…

Elinor went back to cracking eggs as Drew told her about the happenings on the farm. It had been a good year, but it was getting harder and harder to make the quota.

She poured the egg, milk mixture into the skillet and began to stir. Her stomach churned a little.

He managed to get everything winterized, baled enough, loft stocked, silo full, etc. The town sheriff retired and that kid who used to pick on her in grade school for being so smart was now the new guy with the star. Drew didn’t think too kindly of him – and not just because he was mean to his sister.

Elinor’s stomach continued to do strange things as the eggs congealed. She was hungry… _wasn’t_ she?

He had a way with the local girls that her brother didn’t like. And he wasn’t the brightest bulb in the box…must be one of those new GE bulbs that looks like soft serve ice cream.

She swallowed hard. The eggs were almost done.

Drew had stopped talking, perhaps put out over her not responding to his light bulb jokes. She grabbed a couple plates and spooned the eggs onto them – giving Drew a little more than her, but not much.

She must be hungry…her stomach was practically in her throat!

Both started eating. Elinor hadn’t realized how truly hungry she was. She had finished half of her plate when she laughed a little.

“Wha?” Drew asked

“I was so hungry. I forgot to breath!” she giggled.

“Yeah, well smells great. Tastes good too!” Drew grinned with egg in his teeth.

Elinor laughed and inhaled deeply.

She nearly fell out of her chair and ran, sliding around the corner to the half bathroom next to the kitchen where she promptly relieved her stomach of the scrambled eggs, she had just taken great care to make.

 

“Welp” Drew studied the thermometer, “Ya don’t have a temperature.”

“Temperature is a measure of the average kinetic energy in a system, Andrew. I think what you mean is I don’t have a fever.”

“Ya may not have a _fever_ but yer always a pain in the ass.” Drew smirked at her.

“It’s probably just the onset of a flu.” She looked up at him from the couch.

He had insisted she lay down while he sifted through her medicine cabinet looking for her thermometer. She covered up with an afghan and waited for the chills to start but they never came.

“Welp, maybe I should go then?” Drew asked sheepishly.

“Go ahead, traitor.” She teased.

“I ain’t gettin’ the plague, I gotta farm to deal wit, woman!” Drew kissed her forehead. “Will I see ya in ‘bout two weeks?”

She frowned, “Two weeks?”

“Yeah, ya know…Christmas?”

Her eyes widened. “Christmas?”

He looked quizzically at her, “Where ya been Ellie? Outer space? Didja have a calendar on that government base? Lemme guess – they couldn’t afford it.”

“Sure. About two weeks.” She smiled at Drew reassuringly, “I just forgot it was so close.”

 

She fell asleep on the couch. She never fell asleep on the couch. It was the knock on the door that woke her up though. Groggily she wiped the drool from her mouth and padded to the front foyer to look out.

_Uh oh._

Elinor opened it to find Fink, Allen, Tate, Mark and Rick huddled on her doorstep with a Christmas tree.

“Um. Hello?”

“Merry Christmas, girlfriend!” Fink grinned at her.

“Ohhh. Wow. Um…Is that real?”

“No, we weren’t sure if you were allergic, so we got a nice fake one. Rick wanted to get a palm but Fink and Allen said no.” Mark explained in his thick accent.

“Look we got lights!” Fink held up a box of multicolored decorative strings, “Don’t worry, I checked, they’re safe!” Fink knew about her epilepsy.

She sighed, “Oh, alright.” She opened the door, so they could all pile in.

 

She watched as her friends assembled the sad looking blue spruce in the corner of her living room. She sipped at water and munched on a couple crackers; feeling much better, just tired.

Fink and Allen chatted away about looking for a house – they were hoping to move in together. They had an apartment, but they really wanted to get a cat and their complex didn’t allow animals.

Tate had found a girlfriend – she was in HR at TES and they had met when she had requested an engineer participate in a local high school career day since it would be good PR for the company. According to him she was outgoing, funny, sweet, beautiful and smart as hell. Elinor grinned when she saw Rick roll his eyes and Mark bob his head in approval. Mark was Tate’s office mentor and a father figure and friend outside of work. If she had his approval, then she must be as wonderful as Tate had described.

Mark had been promoted to Lead Engineer at TES, which in Elinor’s opinion was an excellent choice. He was level headed, understood everything that needed to be done, the challenges that lay before them and knew each engineer’s strengths. He was humble enough to come down a level to teach others yet able to lead in a supervisory role.

Rick was still into drinking beer with loose women. He had taken up shooting pool in the bar near his house and had spent a great deal of effort trying to seduce a woman named Mona who also liked shooting pool. As it turned out Mona was not interested in Rick or any other man.

“Oh, Ellie, could I borrow some of your dresses for drag night?” Fink asked suddenly.

Elinor pursed her lips, “Fink, the last time I let you, they came back with glitter all over them! And one had a lipstick stain in a weird place!”

“Oh? What kind of weird place?” Allen looked over at Fink questioningly.

Fink fidgeted, and Rick grinned impishly from his spot on the floor unwinding Christmas lights.

“Talk about it later, Boo.” He said quietly through clenched teeth.

“What was that Sweet Cheeks? I didn’t quite hear that?” Rick joked.

Tate smacked him upside the head and Ellie laughed. Tate had gotten a bit more confidence since she left. She remembered him as uncertain and shy - this new girlfriend must be good for him.

“Seriously, Elle. Can I please please please. I love your Modcloth stuff. So classic. Where’s that gray dress? The one you used to wear all the time. The fitted A-line with the thick straps that twirls so well?”

Elinor’s eyes widened as she took a sip from her glass.

_Oh…that one._

“Uh…the gray one?”

“Yeah, ya know that fitted one. Came down to your calves and it makes your butt look good. It’s sooo pretty. Please please can I borrow it? I’ll love you forever!”

“Oh..um..that one.” She inhaled deeply and felt her cheeks flush, “I’m sorry Fink, it was ripped.”

_Can’t you just lie, Elinor?_

“Girl, how did you manage to rip it? That thing was gorgeous on you!” Fink fumed.

_By having angry sex in a dressing room._

“Sorry, Fink. I do have a few others that you’re welcome to choose from.”

“Really? Oh my God! You are the best girlfriend a gay man could ever have! You are awesome, girl!” He gave her a hug and started dancing around the living room singing “Don’t Cry for Me Argentina.”

They laughed, but Elinor still felt like she had a piece of herself missing. There was an emptiness in her. She frowned suddenly. No one seemed to notice because Rick started swearing colorfully at the string of lights he was working on.

“Damn it! I swear I checked each one of these little fuckers! Stupid pieces of shit!” Rick bit out.

“Give them to Ellie, she’ll fix them!” Mark called from the kitchen.

“Yeah, Ellie can fix anything!” Tate nodded and smiled over at her.

_Not a broken heart._

She started to sob.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello,
> 
> I'm back...I finished writing Part II but there's a problem. It's called Part III. Apparently I find doing this therapeutic, for which I apologize but also wish to offer my sincerest thanks - you are cheaper than going to a shrink. 
> 
> The next two chapters set up the whole premise of Part II. Hopefully things won't devolve too badly.


	26. Forgotten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings:  
> None unless you have a sympathetic stomach. 
> 
> In This Chapter:  
> Elinor's friends have concerns  
> There may be a snake in the grass because not everyone is happy on the Chimaera.   
> Pellaeon has some advice for the Grand Admiral  
> Elinor tries to reason things out but she ends up wearing her heart on her sleeve or rather...her wrist.  
> She ends up with unexpected and unwelcome visitors.  
> Christmas is coming and also watching  
> Elinor meets Sarah...and someone else.  
> A moment of doubt in an ally  
> Thrawn suffers from a lot of self loathing...

 

After they got her calmed down. Fink decided to take matters into his own hands. Elinor was his best friend. He was making it his responsibility to cheer her up. She was obviously upset, and he knew her well enough to know that she needed some time and space. Eventually she would confide in him. They hastily finished decorating her Christmas tree and said their goodbyes but not before he pulled her aside and promised to check on her the next morning.

 

Commander Greta Klary gritted her teeth, she had just adjusted to the idea of leaving this primitive backwater when the Chiss suddenly changed his mind. They were back in low power operations. There was no telling how long they would be sitting there. The rumors were flying around, each one crazier than the last.

One rumor was that the Jedi had him under a spell, something Klary seriously doubted – Thrawn wasn’t that weak to capitulate to the boy.

Another rumor was that the Chimaera was not up to the challenge of intergalactic travel and they needed Elinor Savona back aboard to work out the ship’s issues. Klary snorted at this idea, as well. Savona was talented but certainly not required to get the Chimaera back to Imperial space now that the ship was underway.

No, the latest rumor was considered the most outlandish and scandalous. It was therefore the most intriguing to the Commander. This one hypothesized that the Grand Admiral was _in love_ with Savona and could not stand to leave without her. Klary found this fascinating and potentially beneficial that is, if _he_ – her contact on the ground - wanted to risk implementing his plan.

It was a risk but one Klary was willing to take now that they were back hovering behind the planet’s moon. She would have help, of course. She already knew several officers who were anxious to go back to Imperial space and several more that did not enjoy taking orders from a non-human, no matter how charismatic and talented he was.

Risk was the product of the consequence of an action and the probability of the action occurring. The probability of the action occurring was completely dependent upon external forces, but once they were put into place, and the word was given the likelihood of success would increase dramatically as time went on. As for the consequences…

She requested the shuttles be moved to the Chimaera’s deep storage area. It would be unfortunate if _someone_ were to escape down to the surface.

Yes. It would be worth the risk.

 

Pellaeon was still in a state of shock.

He hadn’t been entirely sure what to think when the Chiss had requested advice. What in the Nine Hells could he provide advice on? The man was a Grand Admiral. Did he need an opinion on a piece of Corellian art?

The two had reached Thrawn’s office and the Captain noticed then, that he looked tired. His eyes were hooded, and his skin seemed paler; a less vibrant blue. He was anxious and fatigued.

Like any other being.

Pellaeon and indeed, many of the Chimaera’s crew, looked at Thrawn as unperturbable and calm; above the weakness of panic and despair. If the common crewer or officer were to see him in such a state, the Captain could only imagine what kind of rumors would fly.

“Captain, please sit, if you would.” Thrawn indicated one of the chairs at his desks.

Pellaeon sat across from the Grand Admiral, still confused.

“Sir?”

“Captain…Gilad.” Thrawn sighed heavily, “I ask that the following not leave this room.”

“Of course, sir!”

And Thrawn had told him.

To say that he was flattered and humbled to be entrusted with such a secret was an understatement, but when Thrawn asked the Captain what his course of action should be, Pellaeon understood why the Grand Admiral was struggling.

“I uh…I don’t know, sir. I understand your commitment to the Empire. It’s a commitment we all share but…”

“But?” Thrawn pressed.

“This is…” Pellaeon sighed “The situation has changed since Lothal, don’t you think, sir?”

“How so, Captain?”

“There is no guarantee we will ever make it back. We don’t have a viable defense system, in case we do run into trouble along the way. The Empire probably thinks we’re dead – we haven’t even heard from the rest of the 7th Fleet. Hypothetically if we do want to try to return, who says we can’t start colonizing along the way – make attempts at harvesting potential resources, establish trade, map out hyperlanes…There is a lot of good we can do for the Empire without being in Imperial space, sir.”

“You make interesting points, Captain.” Thrawn gazed at nothingness and steepled his fingers. “I will think on it more and make a decision shortly.”

“Yes, sir.” Pellaeon nodded and stood to leave.

He stopped and turned to the Grand Admiral, “Sir?”

“Yes, Captain?”

“I will support whatever decision you make, sir.”

Thrawn smiled softly, “Thank you, Captain.”

 

She fell asleep on the couch again. Sleeping in a bed without him was too much to bare. Elinor found herself waking up early and wanting something to eat. She rummaged around and found some cereal. The Imperials were kind enough to go to the grocery store for her. Everything was fresh or, so she thought.

The milk from the cereal must have been the culprit – it had been in the scrambled egg mixture too. The reaction was immediate, though and she filed Multi-Grain Cheerios under the list of food items she would not be eating again, any time soon. Perhaps it was a stomach virus or just her digestive system adjusting to life back on Earth? The food aboard the Chimaera was purchased in bulk but it hadn’t been exotic in anyway.

After thoroughly brushing her teeth and showering she dressed for the day and began to think about her career options. Since Martin Tassi had been discredited when his connection to the Russian mafia was revealed, Dr. Elinor Savona had become, once again a viable candidate for a position in any one of Uptown’s engineering firms. Getting back to work would help her cope with the loss she felt every time she woke and found herself alone.

She had placed his rank plaque on her night stand thinking it would help her sleep to have a part of him so close to her. She occasionally would pick it up and hold it as she paced around trying to reason out her emotions.

It was just serotonin and dopamine. That’s all it was. Love was just chemistry. It wasn’t riding off into the sunset and living happily ever after; it was childish to think that she could have that with him. They were from two different worlds (literally) and he wasn’t even human.

Ellie stopped pacing, it had never bothered her that Thrawn was not human. To her, he was just the person she fell in love with. She looked down at the rank plaque in her hands and felt the familiar wave of sadness wash over her. She was in love with him; would always be in love with him.

How could she ever move on from that?

 

She found her old sawdering gun in the garage attached to the side of her townhouse. Her Honda Civic was still in there with a fine layer of dust on it. Elinor had never sold her car believing that one day she would drive again. She had a small work bench with a C-clamp. By savaging some stray pieces of jewelry, she never wore, sawdering things together and bending the plaque using the clamp she fashioned it into a loose bracelet.

She noted that the metal of the plaque was malleable and would likely bend back to its original form easily without damage to the red, blue and gold tiles. If she had doubts, it could be corrected.

Elinor had just finished and put it around her right wrist when she heard the doorbell ring. Quickly she turned off the sawdering gun and placed it in a safe location to cool. She ran to get the door as the bell rang again.

“Coming, coming!” she called.

She opened it expecting to find Fink and the gang standing there with wings or more Christmas ornaments for the horrible looking tree they christened her living room with. Instead, two men in suits stood waiting for her.

Immediately her mind flashed to Cran and Dizon and she swallowed the lump in her throat.

“Hello?”

“Dr. Elinor Savona?”

Déjà vu? Only this time, Elinor got the sense these men were not as well-meaning as the Imperials had been.

“May I ask who is inquiring?” she looked at the first man carefully. He was younger, less experienced in his profession but still confident in whatever his objective was.

“No. Are you Elinor Savona or not?” the second man asked coldly. He was an older man. Suspicious. Malevolent. Dangerous.

The hair on the nape of her neck stood on end and her stomach flopped. For a brief moment she wondered if they’d go away if she vomited on them.

“I do believe, sir, you were the one to knock on my door and I have every right to question you for doing so!” she fumed.

The second man sneered, “You are her, aren’t you?”

“Why would you want to know?”

Suddenly the younger man stepped closer and placed his hand on the other man’s upper arm in warning, “Ma’am we need to speak to her about her recent disappearance, if you happen to see her, could you please have her contact me?” He said smoothly as he handed her a business card.

Elinor didn’t even bother to look at it.

“Sure thing.”

She closed the door behind the two men and watched carefully through the peep hole to make sure they were gone. Her heart was thudding, and her hands were trembling.

What had that been about?

She looked down at the business card: Agent Matthew Caglioni – Federal Bureau of Investigation, National Security Branch

She ran to the bathroom to throw up again.

 

Elinor lay on the bathroom rug curled up in a fetal position. She didn’t feel bad…but she didn’t feel good either. She was exhausted and couldn’t keep her eyes open, in fact she fell asleep right there in front of her bath tub.

Little did she know that Christmas was watching her.

 

Lt. Commander Crissa Pyrondi managed to reestablish a connection with only one of the CT-10s, ironically it was the one that hadn’t responded so many months prior. The connection was established slowly, at first there was only sound, then the image began to establish itself, but it was grainy.

The little sensors in the CT were ready to take in the surrounding environment and the motor and drive mechanisms were also starting to rev up. Readings indicated 500 RPM which was a good sign if they wanted it to be mobile.

Pyrondi frowned when the image on the screen began to sharpen, then she gasped; diving for the comm to contact the Grand Admiral.

 

Thrawn had arrived immediately, of course with Dr. Yermentic by his side.

“She’s sleeping, sir.” Yermentic commented dryly, “There isn’t much more I can say.”

“Why is she on the floor?” Pyrondi looked confusedly at the doctor.

Yermentic shrugged, “Perhaps she had a seizure and is just too tired to crawl into bed to sleep off the effects of it.”

Thrawn simply stared at the image of the sleeping woman on the screen. The war room fell silent as the two women scrutinized the Grand Admiral’s profile.

“Commander, a moment with Doctor Yermentic please?” Thrawn asked without taking his eyes off Elinor.

“Of course, sir. I’ve been meaning to go to the mess.” Pyrondi not hearing any objections, walked briskly to the door.

A buzzing silence filled the war room. He watched her. Couldn’t take his eyes off her. She was so fragile, and he had tossed her aside.

Why? For duty and honor?

What about his duty to her? She was his responsibility, he had committed himself to her. And honor? She honored him by her acceptance and love. And he left her.

“Admiral?” Yermentic interrupted his internal struggle.

He inhaled deeply, “Doctor, if I were to give you additional information regarding Elinor Savona’s health, would you be able to tell me if she is in immediate danger?”

“I suppose that depends on what the additional information is.” Yermentic was looking skeptically at him.

Thrawn nodded once and motioned for her to sit in one of the chairs.

 

Fink, Allen and Tate stopped by the next afternoon, but they did not come empty handed. Elinor cringed when she saw the garment bag and the makeup case. Fink had tried to play Make-Believe Barbie with her once before and she almost bit him after layering her face with war paint.

“No! No! No!” Elinor folded her arms across her chest.

“C’mon Elle!” Fink pleaded, “Girl, you need to get out! Go! Get dressed up! Meet a nice guy! Get drunk! Get laid! You need some kind of release, girlfriend. You ‘bout ready to bust!”

Elinor closed her eyes and gently touched the bracelet on her wrist.

She just couldn’t move on.

Tate just shook his head at Fink, “Ellie, you don’t have to do any of that if you don’t want to, but Sarah would really like to meet you. I’ve told her all about you.”

She didn’t really have any girlfriends before, except for the brief time spent with Crissa aboard the Chimaera, most of the people she spent time with were male. She was after all, in a field dominated by men. In graduate school and during her time as a post-doc, there were several women around, but none expressed an interest in being social. Ellie just assumed they were as busy as she was with research and paper reviews, but several of the men had joked they’d put money on her in a “girl fight.” At the time she had no idea what that meant and didn’t really care, it had never occurred to her that there was some jealousy on their part.

What do you do when men are jealous of you for being good at what you do, and women are jealous because you make the men jealous? Elinor’s solution was to distance herself from it all.

And now, her friends wanted her to make more friends.

_It was like a disease!_

Elinor sighed, “I’d really like to meet her too. Where did you guys want to go for dinner?”

“It’s just some light appetizers and drinks at the new club.” Fink hopped up and down on his toes, clapping his hands together, “That’s all, if it’s too loud or bright or whatever, we can come straight back, ok? Please pretty, pretty, please with strawberries and Cool Whip!”

“You know he’s not going to stop until you say yes, right?” Allen mumbled airily.

“Alright! But only because Tate asked, and I want to meet Sarah. Not because of you,” she pointed at Fink, “-you manipulative little man!”

“Who? Me?” Fink pointed at himself in mock outrage then with an overexaggerated eye roll waved his hand at her, “Please, girlfriend. You are small time cookies for me!”

Elinor couldn’t help but laugh, “When do we go?”

“After you get dressed.” Fink smiled sweetly as he held up the garment bag and make-up case.

Elinor wasn’t laughing anymore.

 

“Where did you get that bracelet, Elle? It’s gorgeous – so different for you, I like it!” Fink picked up her arm and scrutinized the rank plaque bent to fit her wrist.

“Oh uh. It was a gift.” She tried unsuccessfully to keep the tremor out of her voice, thankfully Fink didn’t seem to hear it over the bass. She thought it best not to wear the neckless the Chimaera’s engineers had given her; it would probably result in too many questions.

The club that they were in was new, dimly lit and perfect for people who wanted to dance, drink and make new friends. Based on the way several couples were dancing she could imagine what kind of friendship they had in mind.

Elinor didn’t drink – it interfered terribly with her epilepsy medications and she didn’t really like to dance in public. That left her with talking, fortunately Sarah Johnston was good company. Tate was right – she was smart and _funny_.

She did a phenomenal impression of Rick eating pizza that had the table in stitches, followed closely by the story of how Tate asked her out on their first date. Apparently, he had bought her flowers at a Walmart and someone had put a dozen pink silk roses in with the real flowers.

Naturally Tate picked out the best-looking bundle and thought nothing of it – he didn’t _smell_ them! _Why would he do such a thing?_ He presented them to her with great pride and she tried to cut the stems off and put them in a vase. Sarah ended up breaking her scissors because they were wire lined.

On their second date, though, Tate presented her with a new pair of scissors.

Elinor was truly happy for them – they were head over feet for each other.

Another pang of sadness and she instinctively touched his rank plaque on her wrist.

“Hey Ellie, we’re going to dance. You want to come?” Sarah smiled at her.

“Oh, I can barely walk without tripping over my feet, I better not,” she laughed. “Besides, I’m a bit thirsty I’m going to grab something – do you want anything?”

“No thanks, but if you change your mind, we’ll be over near the pillars!” she pointed to a brighter area on the dance floor.

Elinor nodded as she stood up and made her way to the bar. Fink had dressed her in a black sheath dress, tasteful but accenting her hips, and breasts – especially her breasts. It came to just above her knee and had a slit in the back that she wasn’t entirely comfortable with. It made her want to sit down. She could barely feel her own face with all the makeup on. Fink had scolded her repeatedly because she kept wiggling her nose during its application.

It smelled funny.

The music thumped around her and she felt her stomach do its familiar little flop. Soda water might settle it a bit, that or stir it up enough to relieve her of the flop via a mad dash to the bathroom. Either way, she’d feel better.

She sat down at the bar and asked the girl behind it for her fizzy boring non-alcoholic drink, she smiled and nodded and worked on getting it along with probably a half dozen other drinks. Elinor was waiting for the glass of vomit inducing relief when a man sat next to her.

He was tall and lean, with dark wavy hair, blue eyes and rounded features. His face was kind but pensive, he smiled slightly at her as he asked for a rum and Coke. He waited in silence next to her, but she caught him glance at her out of the corner of his eye. The man realized he’d been spotted and smiled sheepishly.

“Hi, I’m Tyler.” He offered her his hand.

Despite her reservations she took it and smiled at him.

“Elinor.”

“Nice to meet you, Elinor” he nodded politely

“And you, Tyler”

“I wouldn’t be offending your date by talking with you?” Tyler asked looking around slightly

“No, not at all, he doesn’t exist.” She smiled.

“Ah.”

“And your date?” Elinor glanced at him

“She ran away with your date.” Tyler looked over at her glumly.

She giggled as the woman behind the bar delivered her soda water and Tyler his rum and Coke.

“So, Elinor, what do you do for a living?”

“I’m an engineer.” She sipped at the bubbles carefully.

“What kind of engineer?”

“I’m a Jane-of-All-Trades really, but I’ve been working predominately as a mechanical engineer.” She said matter-of-factly. Did she sound arrogant?

“That’s great! Do you work for a firm in town?” Tyler seemed genuinely interested.

“I used to. I just finished up a project for a – uh – independent contractor.” She scowled. Was that all it would eventually be in her mind…just a job? He had been just a fling, while she worked to fix something that was broken?

Suddenly, Elinor wondered if maybe having another “fling” would help her forget. If she took Tyler home with her and closed her eyes maybe just maybe she could pretend….

_Stop!_

Her stomach flipped.

“Uh – so, Tyler, what do you do for a living?” she shakily took another sip of her drink.

“I’m a pediatrician.”

She smiled kindly, “I’m sure there’s a lot of job satisfaction in helping kids.”

“Yes, there is.” He bobbed his head, but he looked sadly down at his drink.

“How long have you been a pediatrician?”

“A little over two years,” He said quietly. “I do enjoy it, but it doesn’t afford me, much time away.”

“I understand that. I don’t have very many hobbies mostly because I tend to work even during th- Oh!”

She had to stand up and get a running start. Unfortunately, she didn’t map out the best way to get to the bathroom, got lost and ended up bursting into the back ally.

There were so many humiliating things about this, Elinor couldn’t even attempt to rank them. There was the fact that she threw up on her own shoes – black suede heels (she refused the stilettoes Fink brought with him). She gulped for air and the stench in the ally made her vomit even more provoking one of the bouncers to gag, after urgently calling for backup on his walkie talkie (“Dude there’s this chick in the back, barfin’. Man, hurry up, you know I can’t do this. I’m gunna lose it!”) Tyler followed her out to see if she was ok.

“Sir, you really shouldn’t be back here.” The bouncer, who was a sad shade of green and sweaty, winced after looking at her.

“It’s ok, I’m a doctor.” Tyler nodded and showed the bouncer some form of identification.

“Oh praise Jesus – I’m gettin’ outta here!”

Tyler gave her a quick assessment

He checked her pupils first, shining a light from his keychain in each one to judge their response.

“Have you been out of the country in the last 21 days?”

_Man, you have no idea._

“No.” she felt her face redden.

“Have you been in contact with anyone who’s been sick?” he felt her neck and throat area.

“Not that I know of.”

He bent down and placed his fingers on her wrist to check her pulse – right near her bracelet. She looked at his hand and then at the rank plaque.

It was true. She could probably go back to talking with him. Maybe get his phone number. See him again. Start dating him…she could have a life with Tyler, the pediatrician from the bar. He could be there. He might even make her happy.

“Have you had any other symptoms, Elinor?” Tyler asked, drawing her out of her melancholy.

“No, I’ve just been really tired.”

“Hm. How long has this been going on?”

She squinted trying to think, “Uh, two days, maybe three.”

His eyes widened in surprise, “I suggest you follow-up with your family doctor, they will likely want to do some tests.”

She looked confused.

“Did you come here with anyone?” he looked down at her, obviously concerned.

Part of her wanted to say no, part of her wanted to ask him to take her home, it was the same part of her that hurt every time she woke up and found Thrawn wasn’t there. The part of her that believed someday, he would forget all about her.

He might forget.

But she never would.

“I came with friends. They’ll take me home.”

Tyler nodded. He dug through his wallet and found a business card, “If you need anything, please give me a call.” He gave her a polite smile and helped her back inside where she found Fink, Allen, Tate and Sarah.

She told Fink, she was sick, and he and Allen took her home. Elinor convinced them she didn’t need looking after; she was in no mood to entertain. They dropped her off at her door, she immediately went inside and collapsed onto the couch. She didn’t even kick off her ruined heels before she was asleep.

 

The CT10 had stowed away in her purse; listened and kept an eye on her while she tried to make her way back to normalcy.

Was it possible he could hate himself any more than he already did?

Thrawn watched her sleeping form from the command console in the war room.

Would she have gone home with that man?

Probably not. Even if she did, she wasn’t his. He had no claims on her anymore. He had given those up when he left her. Yes, she was his responsibility, but she did not owe him anything. It was he who owed her.

He put his head in his hands. He ached for her. To see her suffer was worse than any defeat or torture an enemy could inflict on him.

And yet, he had left her.

_She is not yours any longer._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi,
> 
> I'm going to post the next chapter immediately after this...'cause ya kinda know where this is goin'?
> 
> There is one thing I regret about Part II - Elinor doesn't get much time to use her technical abilities but she does hone her Force sensitivity and turns into a bad ass driver...
> 
> I continue to:  
> a. not know what I'm doing  
> b. think this will end badly  
> c. despite a and b continue to have fun.  
> d. despite a, b and c seem to have developed a mental block on Part III.  
> e. hate diet ginger ale.


	27. Unexpected Gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning:  
> Groping, Strong Language
> 
> In This Chapter:  
> An elusive character and his elusive plans  
> Elinor tells Fink about "him"  
> What hurts?  
> Agent Caglioni   
> Counting  
> Someone else to love

 

George Harding had learned his lesson, and he never made the same mistake twice. He prided himself on that. Once upon a time, in a former life, he would have taken the larger risk and moved faster with his plan, but based on the woman’s information, he had more time to fine tune things. Make them perfect. Much like a certain Grand Admiral.

He chuckled to himself.

People’s hatred and fears were so easy to tape into. Find a group, even a small one, and stoke the fire – it’s his fault or her fault they’re in this situation, they allowed it to happen for whatever reason – and watch them do all the work. One could capitalize on their bigotry by providing them a few resources to help with this or that, some encouragement, maybe a sounding board to discuss their strategies. Stand back, watch and wait.

It was like investing in stock that would slowly reap rewards, then suddenly spike in value. If you cashed in at the most favorable time, it was the most satisfying thing in the world…perhaps the galaxy? George didn’t know about that yet since he’d never left Earth before. He was looking forward to expanding his horizons.

Greed was also a motivating factor.

Harding frowned.

Greed, he had to admit was a weakness for him personally, and he found he was proud to have recognized his own shortcomings. It was one thing to see the faults in others. It was something else entirely to look inside and find them in yourself.

No, greed would see him through. He had no doubt his “friends” would play their part beautifully all because of greed. They wanted their own planet much like those fools Axon and Gornovek. But where they had failed, George Harding would succeed because there would no longer be a united front on the Chimaera to combat the greed. Imperial would turn against Imperial and their precious Grand Admiral would have no other choice but to fall on his sword if for no other reason than his own greed.

 

Elinor woke up to pounding.

Pounding headache, pounding heart and pounding at the front door.

She had had the dream again.

She sat up and almost threw up but managed to keep it in long enough to stubble to the door. She opened it while Fink was in mid-knock.

“What. The. Hell, girl?” Fink motioning to the dress and heels she wore last night.

“Ugh. Fink I’m sick.”

“Uh, yeah, duh but I’d at least expect jammies!” he threw up his arms and gave her an exaggerated exasperated eye roll that only an openly gay man could pull off. Elinor found it enduring.

“In, in! I’m taking care of you!” He shooed her inside her own home.

He busied himself making soup while she went upstairs to shower and dress in yoga pants and a baggy T-shirt. Ellie noticed then that her stomach was slightly distended. Strange, given how much she’d thrown up lately. She made her way downstairs and smelled kitchen activity, her stomach grumbled from hunger. Fink offered her a bowl of chicken noddle soup and she ate it all, albeit slowly.

“Well at least you’re eating!” Fink looked over at her approvingly.

“I am hungry, I just can’t keep any of it down.”

“That’s weird.” He wrinkled his nose.

She shrugged, “Tyler said I should go to see my family practitioner. If it doesn’t get better within the next day or two, I’ll make an appointment. I honestly think it’s the change in diet. The food on the Chi– ah the base was so processed.”

Fink didn’t seem to notice her near slip, instead focusing on something far more awkward.

“Oh? And who is Tyler?” he batted his eyes playfully.

“The man I was talking to at the bar last night. He’s a pediatrician.”

“Oooo, yeah I saw him. So good with kids? Tall, dark and handsome too. Nice ass.” He bobbed his head slowly and grinned. “Go get it, girl!”

Elinor gave him a pained look.

“What? Oh, don’t give me that look, Elle. You need to get you some sheet rumblin’ time!”

“No, I don’t, Fink.” She said flatly.

“Did you get his number? Did you give him yours?” He asked dramatically.

“Yes, he gave me his and no I did _not_ share mine.”

“Oh, he’s so into you! I could tell when you were at the bar talking. You would make beautiful babies!”

“I don’t want him!” Elinor snapped.

Fink blinked and jumped back a little, surprised by the vehemence in her reaction.

“Ok, ok, I’m sorry, Elle. I was just teasing.”

“Sorry, I screamed at you. I just…miss the people I worked with on the base, I guess.”

There was a pause.

“Can you tell me about them?” Fink asked gently.

“Maybe a little.”

And she started to cry.

 

From what Benjamin Finkleton could tell, she had worked with hundreds of people in the past few months. She had come to respect all of them but there was one in particular Elinor Savona kept referring to in just the pronoun form. He noticed when she spoke of _him_ her face would soften and her eyes would brighten slightly; it was as if the central character in her story was _him_. It didn’t take Fink long to figure out, his once shy, often reclusive best friend had fallen in love with this “ _him”_ fellow.

“So, um…This guy you keep mentioning, does he have a name?” Fink finally asked her casually

She sighed. “I’m sorry Fink, I can’t tell you.”

“Well, it sounds like he’s a great guy.”

A single tear ran down her cheek, “He was.”

He decided he needed to ask, for her sake. If this “him” was why she’d been so miserable, she needed to talk about it. She needed to let loose whatever she was feeling, because Ellie wasn’t someone who showed an abundance of emotion to anyone, _ever_. The fact that he’d never seen her cry in the five years he’d known her, and she’d been breaking down constantly since returning, was a strong indicator that something was seriously wrong.

“Elinor…Are you in love with him?”

She was staring vacantly into space. “Yes.” She whispered.

Fink nodded slowly. “Is he in love with you?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. Yes. He told me he did, sort of. Then he sent me away and he left.” Her voice cracked.

“Why?”

She smiled sadly, “He’s in the military. Duty called.”

“How long is he deployed?”

Elinor looked at him then, with a haunted look in her eyes. She could barely get the word out before she broke down, “Permanently.”

Fink’s eyes widened.

_Oh God! He was killed!_

And now his friend was left with a broken heart. He rocked her and let her sob on his shoulder. Suddenly she stiffened and scrambled from the couch to the half bath near the kitchen. The sound of retching could be heard, and Fink had to cover his own mouth and nose. He could deal with picking up doggie doo, cleaning kitty litter, and occasionally wiping his nephew’s runny nose (if he pursed his lips and thought about Ryan Gosling) but gastric excretions. Oh, hell no!

He held it together though…his friend needed him.

She came out of the bathroom looking stressed.

“Well, least I’m not losing my girlish figure over this.” She croaked.

“Huh?” Fink looked her up and down. Her face was gaunt, and she had dark circles under her eyes.

“I still have a tummy and my boobs are still big. I can’t catch a break.” She said with a small smile. “sorry for the loud noise, I know you have a problem with vomit.”

“ ‘s ok.” Fink was still looking at her strangely.

“Yes, yes, I’ll go brush my teeth. But walking up stairs is an awful lot like work. I might fall asleep on the bathroom mat again.” She started laughing hysterically.

Fink just looked at her with stunned, widened eyes.

“Oh, c’mon, I just made a joke! Aren’t you proud of me?” Elinor threw up her arms in defeat, “Ugh I really can’t catch a break.”

“Go brush your teeth, girl. Your breath smells like Allen’s armpit.”

“Fine.”

She brushed but nearly gagged again, several times she was halfway to the toilet before deciding she didn’t need to be then turning back around only to turn back again. After dithering over whether to vomit or not, she made her way slowly downstairs.

Fink sat on the couch staring at the rug, scowling. When he saw her, he patted the couch cushion next to him.

“Elle, you told me once, but I wanted to make sure…what kind of cancer did your mother have again?”

“Ovarian.”

“How long have you had these symptoms?”

“Three or four days.” She frowned. Ellie knew where Fink was going with this, “I’m going to go to the doctor tomorrow Fink.”

“I want you to call, right now and schedule the appointment. Your girl parts doctor, ok?” he gave her the pursed lips, don’t-talk-back-to-me grandma look that made her want to laugh, only this time it actually spurred her to action.

After she got off the phone. She sat back down on the couch. “Happy?”

“Meh.” He shrugged, suddenly he sat up and looked at her strangely.

“Do your boobs hurt?”

“What?” she looked at him in horror.

“Your tat-tats, the air bags, your bee stings, the Material Girls, the missile silos, the twin p-“

“I know what boobs are Fink!” Her face had gotten red.

“Well?” He tilted his head and looked at her quizzically.

“I don’t know.” She shrugged looking confused.

“May I?” And before she could ask what the hell he meant, he reached out and grabbed her chest.

“Ouch!”

“Relax sweetie, I’m gayer than a picnic basket.”

“BENJAMIN FINKLETON! GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE!!!!!!”

“I’m only trying to help! It was an experiment – you should appreciate _that_ , at least! Thankfully it was me and not Rick!”

 

Ellie sat and stewed. Men - all men - were assholes. Every single last one of them. There were no exceptions…well, maybe one..or two..ok, maybe three…

_Damn it._

To accent that point, her doorbell rang. She marched to the door like an angry bull, opened it and screamed.

“WHAT?”

…Only to find FBI agent Matthew Caglioni standing on her front stoop.

_Oh._

“Sorry, I thought you were a Jehovah’s Witness.” She cringed.

Caglioni smirked, “Well then, God help us.”

“What can I do for you Mr. Caglioni?” She asked coolly

“Agent Caglioni” he clarified.

Elinor simply stared at him.

_I’m not in the mood, asshole. My boobs hurt._

She frowned. She had gotten increasingly moody lately and it was going to get her into trouble, especially with the FBI on her door step.

“Of course. My apologies. Won’t you come in?”

“Thank you, ma’am.” He smiled politely.

She closed the door behind him and led him to the kitchen table. “Can I offer you some water or a soda?”

“You wouldn’t happen to have coffee, would you?”

“No.” she said flatly with her arms crossed over her chest.

“Ah, water would be appreciated Ms….”

“Doctor.”

“I beg your pardon?” Caglioni’s brow rose. He was trying to act surprised, but he already knew who she was. Elinor studied him quietly.

“Doctor. Not Ms. Doctor. Doctor Elinor Savona. Where’d your charming friend go, from the other day?”

She moved into the kitchen to get a glass, decided he wasn’t worth filtered water and poured from the tap. Ellie briefly entertained the idea of sneaking into the bathroom and filling the glass from the toilet bowl but it would likely make her feel too guilty.

_What the hell is wrong with you, Elinor?_

“He’s on a special assignment, right now.”

“Going back to school, to learn etiquette?” she asked acidly.

Caglioni actually laughed, “Yeah, sorry about that. Doug has a chip on his shoulder. I hope we didn’t scare you too much.”

It was her turn to laugh, “And why should I be scared Agent Caglioni?”

“We have reason to believe the project you worked on over the summer is linked to a terrorist organization and an elaborate scheme to convince technically minded people, such as yourself, to work for them.”

Elinor couldn’t help but giggle, “Oh Mr. Caglioni that’s hilarious and completely impossible.”

“Agent.” He said patiently.

“Agent.” She bent her head in apology.

“Was there anything suspicious about the base you were on?” he cocked his head slightly.

She puckered her lips slightly and shook her head slowly, “I can’t think of anything.”

“Does _Chimaera_ mean anything to you?” Caglioni watched her closely.

Elinor schooled herself. “No.” she said flatly.

“Star Destroyer?”

“No.”

“How about Thrawn?”

That got her.

And he knew it.

“I – uh – thought I knew someone with that last name…maybe it was Shawn, Hawn? …I can’t really be sure. There were so many people.”

_Stop talking, Elinor!_

He continued to study her, and she forced herself to look him in the eye. She knew her face was turning red – perhaps she could make it seem like she was mad instead of lying.

“Agent Caglioni, you must know that in working for our government there are certain things I cannot disclose. I cannot tell you the nature of my work. I cannot tell you the location of the base in which I worked. I’m sure you understand this.” Her voice was surprisingly steady, and it had a touch of anger in it. An appropriate amount of outrage at being questioned over things she could not talk about.

He bought it, or at least acted like he did.

“I understand Ms. Savona.”

“Doctor.” She corrected him sharply.

“Doctor.” He bowed his head, imitating her earlier gesture of acquiescence.

“I may have some more questions for you as we continue to investigate. Please, if you can think of anything that seemed suspicious during your time working on the project, give me a call. You have my number.” He stood up and pushed in his seat.

She bobbed her head, “I will.”

“Oh, and Dr. Savona…This is an open investigation. Please don’t discuss it with anyone.”

“Of course.”

She walked him to the door. He turned to her then and smiled, she realized then that he was rather handsome with deep set dark eyes and dark blonde hair. Elinor blushed slightly, afraid he might notice her renewed scrutiny.

“Oh and Dr. Savona?”

“Yes.” She sighed resignedly, expecting yet another question.

“Your tap water sucks.” He grinned down at her.

She smiled tightly down at her feet, “Good-bye Agent Caglioni.”

 

He watched as the investigator left her home, breathing a sigh of relief. How did an Earth-based agency know about the Chimaera? Furthermore, where did they hear the name Thrawn?

_Axon._

The man’s treason had apparently been farther reaching and likely more damaging than the Grand Admiral had originally expected. But he had not anticipated coming back. Who would ever believe there was a floating city built for war, behind the planet’s moon?

Thrawn had made the command decision. They would stay for the time being. Major Cran would travel down to the surface with Ezra Bridger in tow to protect Elinor from the threat Bridger had seen until the Jedi ruled it safe for her to return to the Chimaera. And then…

Then the Grand Admiral would do what he should have done initially.

Take her with him.

 

Ellie was getting frustrated with the doorbell. Every time it rang it rattled her skull and made her teeth hurt. After this next visitor left, she was going to rip the thing apart.

She opened the door slowly to find Fink with a bouquet of flowers and a drug store shopping bag.

“And what do _you_ want?” she asked tiredly.

“To apologize and give you these.” Fink handed her both the flowers and the bag.

The smell of the flowers was overpowering but not unpleasant and she instantly forgave him. It’s not like he took pleasure in the ordeal – to him it was probably like holding Zip-Lock bags full of Jell-O.

She sighed. “Ok. In.” She motioned for him to come in.

Elinor put the flowers in water and put the vase on the table, suddenly remembering the vase in Thrawn’s office – from Alderaan. She screwed up her face, trying to keep her emotions in check. Would she ever get over this? Looking at her bracelet, she decided that, no, she never would.

She quickly grabbed the drug store bag, desperate for a distraction and got it in spades.

“Fink…What are these?”

“What do they look like, sweetie?”

She gapped at him.

Oh.

Oh.

Counting.

Counting.

Counting.

Oh.

Oh.

“Uh.”

“They’re pregnancy tests!” he wrinkled his brow and shrugged. “I figured we’d eliminate all possibilities.”

“Why…why did you get three of them?” her voice was trembling.

“They come in all sorts of pretty colors!” He beamed excitedly. “Look, there’s one that gives you two pink lines and there’s one that gives you a blue cross and there’s one that’s kinda boring that says pregnant or not pregnant. I figured you’d like the boring one the best.”

She couldn’t move her face. Her lips were slightly puckered, eyes wide, nostrils flared, and cheeks flushed. It was like she had turned into one of those mounted large-mouth bass fish that grace the walls of avid fishermen everywhere.

“Blink if you can hear me.” Fink waved his hand in front of her face.

“I – uh. I’m going to go and…uh.” Ellie stammered as she walked upstairs.

 

There were two in each package. She didn’t even really need to take one of them.

She knew.

Elinor Savona sat on the edge of her bed staring at the little blue plus sign and wondering what he would think. She smiled. He would be happy, she was certain of it.

He would scoop her up in his arms and hold her, kiss her and tell her he loved her.

_If he were here._

Thrawn may have left her, but he left her with a gift, unexpected but certainly not unwanted. A gift that only he could have given her.

Someone else to love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello,
> 
> Elinor's potential concerns are now pretty apparent - but Thrawn's? The next chapter is called "Mutiny" if that tells you anything.
> 
> I'm still proof reading. Plus I live in fear of plot holes. I apologize in advance.


	28. Mutiny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning:  
> Needles, Violence
> 
> In This Chapter:  
> Thrawn watches Elinor  
> Dr. Bastilis  
> Missing bacta  
> Yermentic down  
> Dissension in the ranks  
> It's time  
> Preventative maintenance? If it ain't broke - fix it so it is.  
> Pyrondi escapes  
> No tractor beam?  
> The Grand Admiral enters a final sequence  
> Grievances to be addressed.  
> Thrawn's last thought

 

The Grand Admiral smiled faintly. She seemed content, joyful even. He was glad for that. A part of him had feared she would be angry and attempt to sabotage the pregnancy, but that was so much unlike Elinor, he was ashamed he even thought her capable of it. Thrawn had been having many negative emotions lately

If he could only reach out and touch her, tell her how much he cared for her, loved her and the child they created together. He would tell her he was wrong to leave her behind, beg forgiveness and promise to spend the remainder of his existence proving he meant every word he said.

Thrawn had requested Lt. Commander Pyrondi keep watch on her from the war room for the few hours he needed to deal with his other obligations aboard ship.

“Sir, she’s relieved the contents of her stomach, three times since you left.” The young commander was obviously alarmed since she and Elinor had been friends during her stay aboard the Chimaera.

“Your effort to keep track of such matters is recognized and appreciated Commander.” Thrawn said dryly.

“Sir?”

Thrawn sighed, “Yes, Commander?”

Pyrondi’s face was bright with nervousness, and something else.

Anger.

“May I ask sir, why we have not intervened on her behalf? It’s obvious she’s ill, Dr. Yermentic could easily and quickly assess her, if we sent in an unknown crewman with a CT10.”

Thrawn smiled faintly, “Because Commander, her condition is temporary.”

“But, sir! She has _underlying_ medical conditions” Pyrondi’s eyes were narrowed in disbelief.

“She will seek treatment for her condition.”

“Sir? Are we talking about the same Elinor Savona? The woman was so absent minded I had to remind her to eat half the time!” Pyrondi was obviously agitated now.

It didn’t bother the Grand Admiral in the least. He was thankful that Elinor had cultivated such loyalty and friendships; as if everyone could see the good in her. Thrawn had seen it.

But he had let it go.

He hadn’t wanted a life of war, death and political intrigue for her. She needed safety, life, stability; all things he could not offer. But now…

Pyrondi sat studying him from her console.

Thrawn sat heavily down on one of the chairs at the war room table. “I intend to take her back with us, Commander. But not yet.”

“Why, wait sir?”

Thrawn had thought this through. It would give her closure knowing that her small inner circle knew the truth, but it was slowly becoming complicated. An Earth-based organization was actively investigating their activities and her connection to him, and her circle of friends could get larger given her condition. He worried, that if she were to find new employment, the secret she had growing inside her would be scrutinized even more…it would not be long, she would start to show.

Chiss children advanced quickly; a hybrid child would likely do the same.

“I want to give her time. Her condition will allow her inner circle of friends and her brother to see that she cannot stay here.” He felt his shoulders slump.

“Then her condition is serious?” Pyrondi squeaked.

Thrawn chuckled, “It is definitely life altering Commander.”

Pyrondi cocked her head and looked at him quizzically. “I don’t understand, sir?”

The Grand Admiral inhaled deeply.

“Elinor is pregnant.”

There was a long pause. Thrawn lifted his eye brow and glanced over at the woman next to him…who was grinning like a new Academy grad after the first shore leave.

She bobbed her head still grinning. “Yes, sir.”

Thrawn stood to leave, rolling his eyes – a human gesture he had picked up from Eli – “Commander, I trust this will not be spoken of?”

“Of course not, sir.” She said more seriously now, “Oh, and sir?”

“Yes, Commander.” Thrawn sighed. If there were further questions on the how/why aspects of this, he would direct her to Yermentic and be very certain there would be no further inquiries of him after that.

“Congratulations, sir.” Pyrondi smiled softly

The Grand Admiral turned around to look at her.

In all of this; ever since Bridger told him, Thrawn had been frantic to get back to Elinor. He had been worried that growing a Chiss/human child within her would be too much for her body to handle – maybe that was the unknown threat the Jedi had sensed? Maybe she would have a seizure and fall; hurting herself and the baby. His mind had gone away from him as it never had before.

War was simple, study, anticipate, plan and update when new data became available. Implementing an attack was just a fraction of what the art really required. However, he could draw no parallel from his previous study of war to his current situation. Or, he just hadn’t given himself adequate _time_ to think on it…

It would be a challenge. An interesting little puzzle… and he would have Elinor with him.

Their own little puzzle.

Grand Admiral Thrawn smiled, “Thank you Commander.”

 

Yermentic was in her office sifting through the information she had found on Elinor’s _condition_. She chuckled. Apparently, the girl just needed a good education. In the doctor’s defense, she had assumed the Grand Admiral would be taking care of birth control in some way, which is why Yermentic hadn’t gone into any further discussion with Elinor. Besides, by the time the woman left, her face was so red, the doctor swore she’d likely explode if she’d said “penis” one more time.

Regardless, Yermentic was happy for Thrawn. He was obviously stressed but she could tell there was an underlying sense of purpose and hope for Elinor and the child. He needed that. She’d been under his command long enough to see the man had been lonely.

At that, she laughed out loud thinking of baby spit up on that pristine Grand Admiral’s uniform.

This would be fun to watch.

“Doctor Yermentic?”

Yermentic cringed.

“I’m here, Doctor Bastilis”

Bastilis was “new” on the Chimaera, he had been placed in his position three months before Lothal and if Yermentic could have picked someone to feed to the purrgils, she would have chosen Bastilis in a Coruscant minute. With her luck though, the slimy critters didn’t like rotten meat and would have spat him out.

“Ah, Doctor. I was wondering if I might have a word.” Bastilis was a pale thin man. Short and soft spoken.

“Sure.” Yermentic tried to make herself sound as enthusiastic as possible, in direct contrast to the man across from her who sounded like a near-drunk protocol droid. He voice was smooth and flowing but lacking in depth, compassion…soul.

She shivered.

“I have been looking into the stores of bacta and have come across a discrepancy in the logs.” He said mechanically.

That didn’t seem right.

“Huh, really? May I see?”

He handed the data pad to her. The doctor scanned the logs, and everything seemed fine until eight days ago when four packs were signed out for inspection, and never signed back in. The signatory: T. Yermentic.

“I never signed those packs out for inspection.” She frowned.

“Your code cylinder was used, doctor.”

She looked up at Bastilis wanting to elbow him in his crotch; not that it would do much to hurt him.

“That may be true _Doctor_ Bastilis, but I did not do _it_.”

Bastilis nodded slowly; perhaps his impression of a patient, kind, understanding gesture. It just came off as patronizing to Yermentic.

“Perhaps, someone used your code cylinder accidently?”

_Was he trying to be a bantha’s ass?_

“I’ll alert the Grand Admiral, that we may have a security breech.” she stood abruptly, anxious to get away from the sniveling little womp rat taking up space in her office.

“I’ll come with you to provide supporting information. I can assist in an investigation.”

_Great._

 

Thrawn listened intently as Yermentic knew he would, studying the logs and the code cylinder identification numbers attached to them.

“Could Commander Axon have found a method of forging code cylinder entries, making a log input appear incongruous with the time the actual theft occurred?” The Chiss finally looked up to Yermentic.

She shrugged. “I don’t know, sir, but in this particular case we do a physical check every eight days.”

“Who else has access to the bacta reserves, doctor?”

“Only the sick bay staff, sir.” It was Bastilis that responded.

The Grand Admiral’s eyes shift to him and studied him, “Dr. Bastilis, it was you who found the discrepancy?”

“Yes, sir.”

_Was that a touch of pride in his voice?_

Yermentic schooled her face but Thrawn’s eyes flicked back to her before she could resituate her nose to normal from its I-smell-something-bad wrinkled state. The Grand Admiral’s gaze again shifted to Bastilis.

“You are to be commended for your thoroughness, doctor. I will have an independent party investigate the issue.”

Bastilis’s passive features didn’t slip but his eyes flash briefly in annoyance, “Sir, I thought that I may be of assistance in an investigation.”

“Thank you, Doctor, but I do not wish to extract you from your other duties.”

The man opened his mouth, looking like he was going to argue the point but with a sideways look from Yermentic and a Chiss staring him down he nodded once.

“Yes, sir.”

Thrawn leaned back in his seat, “Dismissed.”

The two doctors stood to leave when the Grand Admiral leaned forward again, “CMO Yermentic, a word?”

“Of course, sir.”

Bastilis stopped and looked at the two others in confusion, wondering why he would not be included in a conversation the Grand Admiral and the ships Chief Medical Officer would share. Thrawn gave him a pointed look and raised his brow in question, Yermentic cleared her throat.

“I will return to sick bay as soon as possible, Dr. Bastilis.” Yermentic’s face was reddening in barely concealed anger.

“Of course, doctor” the thin man smiled faintly, as if all he needed was an explanation – like he was owed it.

He left and Yermentic turned back toward the Chiss in a huff, Thrawn looking mildly amused.

“What can you tell me about Doctor Bastilis?” Thrawn leaned back a bit more, relaxed now that it was just, he and Yermentic. He motioned for her to take up the seat she was previously occupying.

“Would you like my professional opinion or my personal opinion, sir.” Yermentic asked tartly.

“I have come to trust both.”

She studied him a moment as he cocked his head slightly waiting for her reply, “Very well, I think he’s diseased mynock feces, good only for consumption by deep space worms.”

Thrawn’s expression didn’t change, “And your professional opinion of him?”

“That was my professional opinion of him.” She said through clenched teeth.

“I see.”

Thrawn inhaled deeply, “Your integrity is not in question. I realize you are being set up to be viewed as the guilty party,Tabitha. I do not know the reason, but I intend to find out.”

Yermentic looked at him then and smiled kindly, “Thank you, Grand Admiral, that means a lot to me.”

“I will request Captain Dizon start investigating the matter, immediately.”

“Dizon? Not Major Cran?” Yermentic shot him a look.

Thrawn smiled thinly, “Cran is on protective detail at the moment.”

Yermentic grinned knowingly. Major Thae Cran was on the surface watching over Elinor Savona.

“Ah, how is she?”

The Chiss sighed and nodded, “She is…holding her own. She discovered the truth and appears content.”

“That’s because she loves you, you fool!” Yermentic pursed her lips and furrowed her brow, and thinking it would be better to not stress the informalities too much, she added “sir”

The Grand Admiral sat staring into space for a long moment.

“I cannot give her what she deserves.”

“But you can give her what she wants, and she wants you.”

 

Yermentic returned to a dimly lit sick bay an hour later. She called for the lights to be elevated but they were not responding to voice activation.

_More good news!_

She moved over to the panel to adjust them manually and noticed the lock feature had been augmented, she removed her code cylinder to adjust it – much like the thermostat – because after all menopause was just plain kriffing miserable and…

Code cylinder…thermostat.

_That’s how they got her cylinder sequence!_

She turned sharply around, ready to take off like she had a krayt dragon on her heels when a repulsor cart of medical equipment slammed into her, clipping her under her chin and sending her back against the wall panel. Yermentic tried to reach up to her rank plaque to press the closest tile, signaling for help but something cold stopped her. She looked down and noticed then about a dozen syringes sticking out of her abdomen and chest.

The CMO, reach down shakily and started pulling them out carefully, but her arms could no longer work, she could no longer feel her legs, a cold stillness enveloped her, and darkness closed around her vision.

 

Thrawn was furious.

Another attack on his ship.

He strode briskly to sick bay and burst in looking as terrifying as the rumors said he was. Several of the stormtroopers on duty stepped back in surprise. There were some troopers in the ranks that had never laid eyes on the Grand Admiral and were shocked when they finally did see him. The first word that came to everyone’s mind when they first saw the Chiss was “intimidating”. The two currently on guard had only seen him once before, and he hadn’t looked _nearly_ as threatening then as he did now.

“Status?” he snapped.

“Grand Admiral, Dr. Yermentic is in stable condition but she is unlikely to regain consciousness anytime soon. The syringes that were improperly stowed were filled with an Urglicol mixture, used to keep patients in a comatose state for extended periods of time for their comfort level and to ensure they do not injure themselves during the healing process.” Dr. Bastilis intoned soothingly.

Thrawn’s eyes were blazing red as he scrutinized the doctor. “How did this happen?”

“Captain Dizon will likely investigate, sir.” The man frowned slightly; his voice acerbic.

The Chiss felt his eyes narrow, Tabitha Yermentic was correct in her assessment of the man.

“Were you here when it happened, Doctor Bastilis?”

“Sadly, no. I would have been able to render aid quickly and perhaps fewer drugs would have entered her system.” He sighed

“When will she regain consciousness?”

Bastilis cocked his head and frowned, “Unfortunately, Urglicol mixtures are very particular. Any artificial means to trying to revive her could cause inadvertent organ failure. It would be best to wait for her to wake up naturally. Submersion in bacta would be beneficial.”

“Given the amount of Urglicol absorbed into her body, when would you expect her to regain consciousness, doctor?” Thrawn studied the man. A strange creeping suspicion settling in between his shoulder blades.

Bastilis shook his head in facsimile of sadness, “Not for weeks, Grand Admiral. Possibly months.”

Captain Dizon entered the room and saluted the Grand Admiral, saving the Chiss from acknowledging the doctor’s words and his own bubbling rage.

“Captain, with me.” Thrawn ordered.

Thrawn led Dizon back to his office and motioned for him to sit.

“Captain, we have a saboteur on the Chimaera.”

He explained what Yermentic and Bastilis uncovered, the discrepancies in the code cylinders and Bastilis’s suspicious behavior.

Dizon listened and asked occasional questions, his primary question, like Thrawn’s had been whether Axon or Gornovek had somehow managed to find a loop hole around the code cylinder security system but in the case of the bacta which was physically verified, it wasn’t possible.

“This is your new priority, Captain,” Thrawn’s said icily. “I do not take kindly to attacks aboard my ship.”

“Yes, sir!” Dizon nodded “We’ll get whoever did this.”

“Thank you, Captain.” Thrawn relaxed slightly, “Dismissed.”

 

While Dizon was left tracking down Yermentic’s attacker, and Cran was on the surface for more surveillance work, the stormtroopers on Decks 16,17 and 18 started to get antsy.

TX-601, TX-797, TX-596 and TX-563 were on Deck 17 “holding up the superstructure and dusting the coms.” They’d had their first taste of being on planet for a surveillance assignment a little over a month ago and that was it. There was nothing else. Get off, look around, get back on again, and some of the squad was mad.

“I’m gettin’ real frustrated.” TX-797 huffed.

“Whadda frustrated over? You got that cute Ensign up on Deck10. She’s wigglin’ around in your sheets!” TX-596 snorted.

TX-797 smacked the back of his helmet. “I’m frustrated because I’ve gotten no shore leave in over a year. The kriffin’ officers get to go down, but not us!”

“Oh c’mon, you got to go down!” TX-601 admonished.

“I didn’t even get to shoot nothin’” 797 grumped.

“Well, if you’re having a hard time shootin’, send that sweet little Ensign to me, my blasters fully charged.” TX-563 joked to rancorous laughter.

“I’m serious! Aren’t you guys tired of bein’ here? First, we’re goin’ back to Imperial space, now all of a sudden, we turn tail and head back here. Why the change? Ol’ red eyes afraid of what the Emperor’s gunna do to him when he gets back? That shouldn’t impact the rest of us!”

“First of all, the Grand Admiral is the best the Empire’s got. Second, we don’t know all the details – maybe we busted something before we could get completely out of the system and we need the Earth Engineer back.” TX-601 shrugged

“Then why not just say that? And Thrawn is hardly the best. He’s an _alien_.” TX-596 shook his head.

“What does that have to do with the price of blue milk?” 601 cocked his head.

“Oh c’mon” 797 admonished, “They’re all the same. They hate us, just as much as we hate them. Don’t you know anything about the Clone Wars?”

“You’re idiots” 601 waved dismissively.

“Ya know, you guys are thinking about this all wrong.” TX-563 was propped up on one of the durasteel frames, “Maybe red eyes went back because he’s got a thing for the lady engineer?”

“Oh c’mon!” 596 snorted.

“No, he’s right, Brev said that he spent a lot of time with her… _a lot_ of time.” TX-797 suddenly stood up straighter.

“Brev, as in the Ensign you can’t seem to shoot straight with?” 596 laughed.

“Ugh, I’m not an elitist or anything, but let them stay with themselves. Don’t go mixin’ in with humans – that’s just not natural.” 563 made a distasteful sound in the back of his throat.

“Ha, hate to break it to you but that kinda makes you an elitist.” 601 said dryly.

“Either way, I’m gettin’ sick of it! I hear there are a couple officers really sick of it too…so sick they’re thinkin’ of taking it up with the Captain.” TX-797 whispered.

Silence fell.

“You don’t mean-”

“You know what I mean!” 797 snapped. “We start gettin’ a say in what the hell goes on around here, like it or not, we aren’t in the Empire anymore!”

 

Lieutenant Tanner, Lieutenant Rhyns and Ensign Mendoza were not happy either. For a year they waited for the ship to be underway. The Earth woman had done it, much to everyone’s surprise – she fixed the Chimaera and they were headed out of the system when the Grand Admiral suddenly got space sick and headed back to the planet like a wounded dewback.

Mendoza and Tanner were a little less irate over it. They wouldn’t mind staying a bit planet side. Both had low standards and could get plenty of opportunities with the opposite sex (if they were ever allowed off the damn ship), but Rhyns who had come from a well-respected Core World family was embarrassed to even be assigned to the Chimaera let alone be stranded in the middle of nowhere with its crew and the abomination in charge of the whole operation.

Thrawn hadn’t been entirely at fault for Atollon, naive and shortsighted, yes, but what happened over Lothal…that was a disgrace. They wouldn’t even waste time with a court martial when they returned to Imperial space. The Emperor would simply have him executed on the spot.

Perhaps, that was why the Chiss had turned tail and fled back to the planet. The realization finally hit him that he was going back to face the music and it wasn’t going to be a pretty tune.

“Maybe we’re just going to stay permanently?” Mendoza offered

“I doubt we’d start to leave and then come back again.” Tanner snorted derisively

“Maybe we forgot something? Or someone?” Mendoza shrugged.

“You aren’t referring to the Savona woman?” Rhyns sneered, “We don’t need a primitive telling us how to run an Imperial Star Destroyer.”

“Uh, but we needed that primitive to help us _fix_ an Imperial Star Destroyer.” Tanner chuckled.

Mendoza suppressed his own chuckle as Rhyns became increasingly agitated.

“No, you know what it is! It’s Thrawn not wanting to go back because he knows what’s coming to him. We have to suffer on the edge of the universe because some non-human got delusions of grandeur and it backfired in the freak’s face!”

“Whoa! Don’t go shooting anti-alien rhetoric here, friend. That fodder doesn’t fly on the Chimaera, in case you haven’t noticed!” Tanner’s mirth had been completely replaced by outrage now.

Mendoza stood watching the two Lieutenants, eyes wide.

“Yeah, well maybe it should?” Rhyns whispered vehemently, “Do you think he’s commanding for the good of the crew right now? Do you think he had our best interests in mind when he came back here instead of heading back to Imperial space? Whatever his motives are Tanner, they certainly aren’t for us.”

“He’s damn good. Just because we don’t see it now, doesn’t mean we won’t see it later!” Tanner growled.

“Yeah, tell that to the rest of the 7th Fleet.”

 

Commander Greta Klary had slowly, quietly sowed the seeds of discord, as her point of contact had suggested. He had emphasized the importance of waiting for the Grand Admiral to be at his weakest. People generally didn’t feel tiny little pin pricks. It was such a subtle approach, Thrawn would appreciate it – indeed he might even see parts of it, if he weren’t so distracted.

Bastilis had played his part beautifully by taking out Yermentic. Major Cran and the Jedi, Bridger were on their way to the surface, Dizon would easily be overpowered by the dissent rising within the stormtrooper ranks, Pellaeon would either toe the line or join his commander…That left only Crissa Pyrondi who wouldn’t be so willing to participate in the new regime and was annoying loyal to Thrawn.

No, she had Bastilis. She had at least ten squads of stormtroopers, 200 officers and crewers willing and able. The rest of the crew was ignorant and would follow along once the story was out – Thrawn left the ship to find Elinor Savona. Was it perhaps the poor blue skinned, red eyed alien was heartbroken? His betrayal in leaving his ship and crew behind would not garner any sympathy.

Klary also had her contact on the surface supporting her endeavor...for a price, of course. That price was miniscule compared to what Klary would get in returns. Her own Star Destroyer, the recognition owed to her and a prize worthy of the Emperor – a whole new region of unknown space to explore with unfathomable numbers of worlds and resources ripe for the Empire to claim.

It was time.

 

Pyrondi sat with her elbow propped up on the table watching the poor woman vomit for probably the twentieth time that day. Why would _anyone_ want to have children if this is what you’d have to go through to get them? Were the women who claimed to want large families aware of this? And if so, what kind of brain injury had they suffered prior to that?

Crissa was only thankful that her friend didn’t know she was being watched. What’s more degrading to one’s dignity than throwing up saltine crackers? Having your friend and the father of your child get a birds-eye view of it all!

Pyrondi sighed a pouty huff of air. Hell, she couldn’t even go to the mess hall – everything she looked at reminded her of -

There were more gagging noises coming from the holo sound dock and Crissa shallowed hard. She didn’t even notice the Grand Admiral come in quietly behind her.

“Is she better?” Thrawn asked unperturbed over the sounds coming from Elinor’s bathroom.

Pyrondi jumped and turned to the Chiss. “Uh, no sir.” She looked at her commanding officer sardonically, “I would hardly call that ‘better’.”

Thrawn grunted and smiled tightly. Pyrondi shot him a cool look.

_Was he enjoying himself?_

He cocked an eyebrow at her, “Commander?”

“Uh-I – you--you just seemed pleased, sir, that’s all.” Pyrondi could tell her face was getting red and she was probably stepping out of line…

Thrawn, being Thrawn never did as other Imperial officers would have – he never told anyone to sit down and shut up or mind their own business, he simply smiled slightly and explained.

“Many cultures have theories about the disposition of a child based on the difficulty of the mother’s pregnancy.”

“Yes, sir.” Pyrondi blinked and nodded.

“Chiss are no different in that regard.” Thrawn smiled tightly.

Pyrondi grinned. “Ah, so the fact that Elinor can’t keep water down indicates what?”

“ _She_ will be as brilliant and as strong as her mother.”

Pyrondi snickered, “No offense sir, but that was pretty much a given.”

Thrawn chuckled and watched as Elinor made her way out of the bathroom and collapsed onto the bed, curling up under a blanket. She touched the bracelet on her wrist and closed her eyes. Both Thrawn and Pyrondi heard her whisper, but only Thrawn could make out the words.

“I love you. I miss you.”

Pyrondi slowly stepped away from the console to give the Grand Admiral some privacy. Perhaps it was time to attempt a visit to the mess. She carefully eased her way out of the war room. She slipped around the corner and found a half dozen stormtroopers ideally conversing in the hall.

Pyrondi scowled. A fine place to park themselves and chat about Earth television. She really thought the stormtroopers aboard the Chimaera had more brains but apparently…

They moved appropriately out of her way but continued with their cheeky camaraderie. She turned her head slightly and caught a glimpse of blue crewman’s overalls.

Preventative maintenance technician, Pyrondi decided.

But why did a PM tech need six stormtroopers standing over him?

She grabbed her com after rounding the corner. Captain Pellaeon would know why they would need a PM this close to the war room and the bridge. If there was no record of it on the bridge then they didn’t have authorization…

Her comm was dead.

She looked at it for a long moment, a slow creeping chill set in between her shoulder blades.

She should go to the bridge. Go find Pellaeon and ask him what the hell was going on.

No.

The Grand Admiral.

She put her comm back on her belt and turned back around the corner. The troopers were still there as was the PM tech, or rather the _two_ PM techs. She smiled shyly, when one of the stormtroopers noticed her coming.

“Forgot something.” She mumbled as she drew near.

Once again, they stepped aside for her, but the second tech, the one she hadn’t seen previously started whispering to one of the troopers. Crissa Pyrondi didn’t wait to find out what was being said, she keyed in to the war room and set the lock behind her.

 

He watched her. He always watched her. She had finally fallen asleep. Elinor would find it increasingly uncomfortable to sleep. Her belly would soon swell. She would need to prop her feet up and relieve the pressure on her back as the child grew.

His child.

Never did he think it would be possible. And that it would be Elinor to give him this gift was astonishing.

She would need to give birth on the planet. If the baby were to be born on an Imperial ship of war, the child would be the legal _property_ of the Empire – a slave. He would never allow that. It would be yet another challenge but not impossible and certainly well worth the effort. His child.

And Elinor.

He smiled. He would have them both.

He heard the door open behind him and Pyrondi stepped in but her usual fluid movements were erratic and nervous. She activated the lock immediately after the door closed behind her. He turned to face her with his arms clasped formally behind his back.

“Sir.” She gasped quietly, “Sir, something’s happening.”

“What is it Commander? “

Pyrondi explained quickly.

“I know I’m probably jumping at shadow’s sir, but something seems off.” Pyrondi’s eyes were darting to the door.

Thrawn had already tried his comm only to find it, like Pyrondi’s had no signal.

“I think the panel the PM techs were working on was the bridge ventilation system, sir.” Pyrondi watched Thrawn as he strode to the primary communications ring in the war room.

“Commander, there is a little-known security feature in each Imperial Star Destroyer. Her commander can access the entire system from any computer port on the ship with a single code – outside of a code cylinder.”

Before she could breathe a sigh of relief, however, there was a clank-clank-clank at the door.

“Excuse me sir, ma’am,” said a stormtrooper’s filtered voice, “we have reason to believe your lives are in danger and request you come out so that we may escort you to a safer location.”

Thrawn’s glowing red eyes shifted to the terminal and he began to work as Pyrondi cleared her throat and checked her service weapon.

“I’m quite fine in here, Trooper. Thank you for your concern. If I find myself in need of assistance, I know the standard protocol.” Pyrondi pulled the large table in front of the door and moved a few chairs as cover.

“Yes, ma’am but I’ve been given orders to ensure you are safe and –“

“Orders by whom, Trooper?” Pyrondi snapped.

“Commander Klary, ma’am”

Thrawn and Pyrondi looked at each other.

“What is the status of Captain Pellaeon, Trooper?” Thrawn asked coolly

“I-I don’t know, sir.”

“Perhaps, you had better find that out!” Pyrondi screamed through the door.

There was a long pause. Long enough for Thrawn to enter his command codes and assess the status of the Chimaera. Ventilation sensors indicated the bridge was inundated with vertigon gas. The Grand Admiral studied the engineering displays, many had become familiar to him from his time with Elinor. The potentially offending valves were in the closed and locked positions and the emergency explosive valve was still intact.

This wasn’t a configuration management or misalignment issue.

It was sabotage.

Thrawn looked over at Pyrondi who had readied her blaster and was taking aim at the door.

“Commander,” Thrawn barked. “Come.”

“Sir, they’ll be back soon!” Pyrondi’s wide eyes shifted between him and the door.

He motioned to her and she trotted over to look at the holo schematic of the ship.

“Bastards have taken over the bridge!” she snarled.

“Yes.” Thrawn said grimly, “You must leave.”

Pyrondi blinked up at him, “Excuse me, sir?”

“You will leave here. Go to the hanger bay, take a shuttle down to the surface, find Major Cran and the Jedi. You must protect Elinor.”

“Wait, wait, what? Why? Sir!”

“The saboteurs will not get what they search for, so they will attempt another means of persuasion.” Thrawn was pulling her arm now.

“I will _not_ abandon my post during time of mutiny, sir!” Pyrondi growled

“This is an order, Lieutenant Commander Pyrondi” Thrawn snapped, “You will go. _Now_.”

 

When she exited the war room there were five E-11s trained on her. The stormtroopers quickly eased them down when they realized it was just the female Lieutenant Commander coming out and not the Grand Admiral.

“This way, ma’am” one of them ushered her to the end of the hallway.

“What’s the threat?” she asked making sure her voice sounded casual but curious, not strained from the rage burning in her.

_A mutiny aboard an Imperial Start Destroyer, perhaps?_

“I don’t know ma’am, I was just told to evacuate you to a safe location. Do you know your muster station?” the trooper asked.

“I do.” Pyrondi nodded tight lipped.

“Everyone’s to report to their stations and await further orders, ma’am”

“Thank you, Trooper.”

Indeed, Pyrondi headed in that direction but instead of taking the turbolift down to Deck 31 she went immediately to the hanger bay. She looked around casually. There was no one around. No crewers, no deck officers, no techs. There were also no shuttles.

_Where the kriff did all the shuttles go?_

In a panic Pyrondi looked around, she very well couldn’t take an escape pod to the surface – she’d just end up crashing into the moon – the damn things were almost impossible to control. The only positive thing about the pods was it was difficult to tell if they were jettisoned or not – she could always hide in one of them or jettison one and hide somewhere else on the ship. Hells, if she could get down to the pod bay, she could jettison all of them at once and have the mutineers running around in circles…

No, Thrawn ordered her to leave….

Something caught her eye and the Commander smiled. Elinor Savona wasn’t nearly as thorough as she wanted to be. The Chimaera still had one _whole_ TIE Defender left and it would take one _whole_ TIE Defender to get Crissa Pyrondi off the Chimera.

 

Thrawn stood rigidly with his back to the door. He had engaged the lock after he ordered Pyrondi out of the war room. He continued to assess the schematic, cognizant that diverting power from one of the ship’s systems could overload another. The flow paths in the life support and ventilation systems were complicated but augmenting power to the bridge ventilation system from afar would be difficult without destroying something. The question was, what could the Grand Admiral afford to destroy on his own ship.

Keying in several commands and pressing in the final sequence he checked it one last time, sighed and activated the changes.

 

Somewhere deep within the Chimaera, a coolant piping valve closed and another opened, diverting flow from one system train to another. The C and D Chillers turned on within the allotted ten seconds as required by Imperial standards. After twists and turns in piping, pumps, filtration systems, purification systems, reprocessing domes, valves, etc., a large burst of cold air blew through the Chimaera’s bridge vents. The chill air caused several of the crew members including Captain Pellaeon, who had fallen unconscious due to the effects of vertigon gas, to shiver upon waking. Someone stumbled out of the bridge to get Dr. Bastilis.

Unfortunately, the A and B train was improperly aligned when the C and D train was activated, and the discharge volume overflow flooded…right into the tractor beam support casing.

How clumsy of the Grand Admiral.

 

He smiled slightly to himself. If waking up the bridge with cold air and destroying the tractor beam wasn’t enough to get someone’s attention, and there really wasn’t mutiny, Thrawn decided he would speak (quite vehemently) to each of the COs about complacency in the ranks.

He wouldn’t need to.

Ninety-seven seconds after the tractor beam support casing exploded, there was no polite tap on the door and certainly no request for his exit and surrender. There was, however, a piercing screech of metal on metal as sparks began to fly haphazardly throughout the room.

Thrawn had lined up the large conference table at an angle, on its side and placed the chairs in a way that he could use them as cover or as distractions in the ensuing fire fight. He looked up at the holo screen to see Elinor’s sleeping form and inhaled deeply. Checking his weapon, he keyed in the final lock sequence on the console, crouched behind the table and waited in the dark.

 

Commander Klary paced outside the war room. She watched as the crewman, Urly started to unseal the door. Urly was an unpleasant sort of person. He had poor hygiene and was not the most skilled conversationalist, but he was very good at what he did and for now, that’s what Klary needed.

“When I break ‘er open, ma’am, whoever’s in ‘er’s prolly gunna come out screamin’, so just be warned.” Urly looked up at her

“I think we can handle it, crewman.” One of the troopers next to her said acidly.

Klary smiled, yes, they would handle it.

She commed Bastilis, but he hadn’t answered, likely busy with the bridge crew that had been jarred awake too soon.

She scowled slightly when the final click indicated the seal was completely broken.

“Step away.” The stormtrooper next to Klary ordered Urly.

Urly grunted but moved away, “I’ll be ‘n the mess if’n ya need me ma’am”

She ignored him, too focused on the last piece she needed to win the Chimaera.

_Thrawn._

The stormtrooper in the front used a ram to knock the durasteel down, revealing a perfect imitation of a doorway and the darkened room inside. The only light came from the holo screen at the front of the room. Elinor Savona lay sleeping far away on the planet below them.

He still watched her. How interesting. Perhaps he really was in love with her.

The stormtroopers advanced into the room in twos. The third set of two had entered the room when Klary suddenly remembered that Thrawn could see in the inferred spectrum.

“Careful, he –“before she could give them the warning one of the chairs flew out for the side of the upturned desk and the room light up with blaster fire.

Two stormtroopers were down before they even knew the chair was a decoy. A second later another chair from the other end of the table rolled leisurely to the side but the remaining seven troopers were already shifting their aim toward the Chiss. The slowest of the seven on the end was picked off, and the Grand Admiral ducked behind his barrier before they could return fire.

That didn’t stop them from firing though, if nothing else but to damage the table Thrawn had barricaded himself behind. Klary smiled smugly. He knew they had him trapped, it was time to appeal to his over-inflated sense of nobility and self-sacrifice.

“Thrawn.” Klary called, “We don’t want to harm you, we just want to talk.”

“That is obvious,” the familiar voice was icy but slightly muffled from its place behind the barrier.

“There are grievances, the crew of the ISD Chimaera will have addressed. If you are not able to address them, as commander of this vessel then someone will be placed in your stead, that will.”

“Has Captain Pellaeon offered his opinion on this matter?” Thrawn called casually.

“That is not the point. Captain Pellaeon is not in command. You are. Will you hear the grievances?” Klary could feel her trigger finger twitch anxiously as she walked closer to the upended table.

“You have me at a disadvantage, Commander.” Thrawn’s voice seemed eerily close, “I cannot offer sound judgement with so many weapons pointed at me.”

Klary sneered, she saw a figure in white crouched near a chair about three meters to her left, leaning slightly away from the table. She flattened herself against the wall and steadied her blaster, aimed, and fired.

She stood with a self-satisfied smirk as the storm-troopers around her relaxed. The one closest to the fallen Grand Admiral knelt to inspect the body and suddenly stiffened.

“Ma’am!”

The man wasn’t able to explain further, a blaster bolt burned through his chest plate, the trooper closest to her also fell and a bolt grazed her face causing her to drop to the ground.

“It was just his tunic! He’s moving!” one of the troopers screamed, “I’m calling for reinforcements!”

Klary grabbed his armored wrist, “You call for help, that means more people know what happened.” She hissed.

The man assessed her, though she couldn’t say what his expression was underneath his stormtrooper helmet, she got the impression he was glaring at her. Finally, he relaxed a little.

“What do you have in mind then, _Commander_?”

Klary gritted her teeth and looked around, finding her inspiration sleeping peacefully in a bed on the planet below.

“We will track Elinor Savona” she called over the blaster fire to Thrawn

A blaster bolt came within mere inches of her but the stormtroopers started to return fire.

“We’ll track her down.”

He was in a rapid-fire pattern now. Pinned down.

“We’ll find her..and when we do..”

Before she could finish triumphantly, Thrawn emptied the remainder of his blaster carbine into the war room communication console monitoring the woman on the planet below. The one functioning CT10 feed was gone in an instant. The other feeds for the non-functioning CTs were fried as were all the CR10-XM lines.

Months of work, much of it done by Klary herself, destroyed in a flash.

She screamed out in rage as she brought her blaster to bare on the Chiss. Thrawn saw her coming, though. He pivoted on his left leg and used his right leg to kick the blaster out of her hand. The remaining four troopers used the distraction she provided to rush the barrier. A flash of blaster fire burned past Klary and hit Thrawn on the shoulder, provoking a hiss of pain or fury from the alien.

Without the Grand Admiral’s tunic, the extent of the damage to Thrawn’s skin was immediately obvious. The blue tissue blackened and burned. He staggered but didn’t fall.

It was the second shot to the left side of his torso that sent him spinning. As he fell, he lost his awareness of the universe around him. The last thought and image his awareness created seared itself into his mind like the blaster shots had burned his flesh. The image was of a beautiful human woman with short cropped dark hair and liquid brown eyes, her voice sounded like music and her smile was like the sun after a storm.

_Elinor._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello,
> 
> Please note that 1) Thrawn entered a final sequence for something... and 2) he broke the damn tractor beam.
> 
> I'm still concerned all this is going to back fire in my face.  
> I'm thinking of setting up a hotline:  
> Find plot holes please dial: 1-888-486-5392 (1 888 I TOLD YA)
> 
> Yeah I know...bad. I'm going to go gargle with Diet Ginger Ale.


	29. Announcement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning:  
> Graphic depictions of...pregnancy (Gentlemen - the struggle is real)
> 
> In This Chapter:
> 
> Elinor calls her friends after a disturbing dream...  
> and tells them the news  
> She has a confusing and upsetting first appointment  
> Klary is locked out  
> Apparently Cran and Ezra are locked out too - at least locked out of the bank.  
> Ellie tells Drew  
> Pyrondi does not make friends in the woods  
> Confrontation in the diner  
> George Harding has a gift.

 

Elinor gasped, sitting up in bed instantly searching the room, frantic. She sobbed uncontrollably and shivered in her bed. The dream was terrifyingly real.

She could still see his face when the blaster bolts hit him, crumpled in pain, and anger. She tried desperately to get her breathing under control but all she could see was _him_ , laying on the floor, burned and beaten by his own men.

She moved to stand but she quickly slipped back down to the bed again, too weak to attempt the trek to the bathroom. Suddenly, wrapped in her grief, she realized she needed more than just herself. Elinor Savona did something she had never _ever_ done before, she called her _friends_ for help.

Fink and Allen were the first to arrive.

Fink had a key to the front door and immediately came darting up the stairs where she still lay in bed crying. Allen followed behind him.

“Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God! Girl, you need to go to the doctor!” Fink chanted.

“I know Fink. I know! I have to get out of bed first!” Ellie sniffed

“What happened girlfriend, hmm?” Fink rubbed her back reassuringly as she tried to sit up again.

“I-I-“ she burst into tears again just as the doorbell rang. Allen trotted down the stairs to open it for Rick who boisterously screamed out “Hey Savona get your ass down here I got you fucking donuts!”

Fink rolled his eyes and shook his head. “What is it sweetie? Is it the baby?” he whispered, “I haven’t told anyone, not even Allen.”

Ellie stared down at her abdomen. Her belly seemed bigger, but she wasn’t that far along by her estimation - maybe 6 or 7 weeks at the most.

“I just had a terrible nightmare about…the baby’s father.” Ellie choked out.

Fink looked pained and she could see tears welling in her friend’s eyes. “Elinor, I’m not anything much of anything.” he paused and looked down at his own hands and sniffed, “as you know I have terrible taste in clothing and men, I just happened to get lucky with Allen, but I promise you we will do _everything_ we can to help you and this baby. Me, Allen, Mark, Tate, hell, even Rick. We _all_ love you – you’re our family…and we take care of our family.” He dabbed at his eyes.

“And it’s a damn good thing I’m not in drag, ‘cause do you know how hard it is to redo makeup after a good cry?”

Ellie shook her head “No, I’m sorry” she wailed as more tears pooled in the corners of her eyes.

Fink laughed, wiped his tears away and gave her a hug. It had cost her something to call them. What was it? Her pride? Her independence? But what she gained was worth far more.

By the time she had wiped away the final traces of heartbreak from her cheeks, Mark and Tate had arrived and were downstairs comparing the pros and cons of chocolate glazed cake verses cream filed with Rick. Fink helped her to stand and made sure she was able to make it to the bathroom ok. He and Allen joined the donut discussion in the kitchen while she showered and tried to ease the chill that had seeped into her during the dream.

She made her way downstairs and found her friends gathered around the table eating donuts; two cinnamon/sugar cakes were set to the side for her. How did she get to the point where these five men knew what kind of food she liked? What made her special enough to warrant someone’s attention?

With a pang she recalled a conversation she had with Thrawn one night, as she lay in his arms, her eyes covered by goggles.

“Why do you find me appealing? I’m not physically attractive.” She had asked

“Do you not believe you are beautiful?” he teased

“I’m ordinary. Really plain.”

“I find your version of ordinary and plain, stunningly beautiful.”

“But why?” Elinor persisted

“You see me. Others do not. Many use only their eyes to see.”

She remembered smiling and taking it as a compliment; he had meant it as one. He had kissed her and pulled her to him. They had made love while he told her how beautiful she was to him.

She struggled again to put one foot in front of the other. She clasped her bracelet and moved slowly into the kitchen.

“Hey Savona!” Rick cheered, “You ready to do the Macarena with me?”

“Not today Rick, besides as far as I know I could get a rash from doing that with you.”

Tate spat his orange juice out and rubbed his nose, “Damn Ellie, if you’re going to fling one at Rick like that can you at least wait ‘til I’m done drinking. I have citric acid burns now!”

“Sorry Tate.” Ellie smiled sweetly at Rick.

There was the sound of a toilet flushing and Mark came out of the bathroom, “Oh Elinor! I’m so sorry but you’re out of toilet paper in there, may I get a new roll for you?”

“Thanks Mark, top shelf in the hallway closet. I’ve been using a lot of it lately to wipe my mouth.”

There was dead silence.

Mark turned and looked at her, smiled slightly and opened his mouth to say something but Rick beat him to it.

“Ya know you’re supposed to wipe from the other end Savona?”

Ellie sighed. She might as well tell them.

“Well, when you throw up all the time because your pregnant...”

Mark eyes widened, and a slow smile lit his features. “Really?”

“Really?” Tate stood from his seat at the table looking excited.

Rick had a gapping grin on his face ready to burst into laughter regardless of whether she was joking or not.

“Yes.” She said softly, “I’m pregnant.”

Mark, Tate, Rick and Allen rushed to hug her with Fink following closely behind.

“How far along?” Tate asked excitedly scrutinizing her belly as if he could get a protractor and compass, make some measurements, do some calculations and come up with the answer.

“Six or seven weeks.” She smiled

“And already a vomit cannon? Nice!” Rick gave her a hug, “So when do we get to meet baby Daddy?”

Suddenly, the world stopped again and the image of Thrawn in the dream came back to her. It was almost too much for her to bare.

“I-uh-I…he’s not around right now.” She said hesitantly.

Even Rick knew when to back off, thankfully.

“So, when is your first ultrasound?” Mark asked her, beaming.

“I have an appointment today.”

 

The appointment was confusing.

Elinor understood why it was confusing for the nurses and the receptionists – a woman walking into an OB/GYN with five men following her around like baby ducklings would confuse anyone. But it wasn’t supposed to be confusing to _her_. Having a baby was supposed to be simple and natural and normal. Right?

No.

She threatened the entourage with dismemberment if they tried to come into the examination room with her. There was some light argument until Elinor detailed which appendage she would begin dismembering first, if they “accidentally” forgot her wishes.

Once she entered the examination room, the standard questions ensued.

Date of last menstrual cycle? Are they regular? What symptoms are you having? You sure it’s not the flu, honey? Have you had sex recently? Was it unprotected?

“I took a home pregnancy test and it was positive.”

“Oh…ok, well, just so ya know we can’t tell paternity from a pregnancy test or an ultrasound.” The nurse looked over her glasses at Ellie – she was an older woman.

Elinor blinked.

“I’m well aware of that.” She smiled thinly, “The gentlemen in the waiting room are my friends, my _husband_ is away.”

“Ohhhh, ok, I understand now. Alright honey, nothin’ from the waist down. Ultrasound tech will be right in”

Elinor made a face, this would be a funny story to tell later. She was pleasantly surprised at herself for not being more offended. In her younger years she would have been much more confrontational and taken the woman to task for her ignorant conjectures. A person in medicine, such as a nurse, should not be so quick to draw conclusions and certainly shouldn’t pass judgement. But after years of dealing with unfair assumptions, she had learned when to give a tongue lashing and when to play along. Now was the time to nod and smile and think about the offending party getting a paper cut later.

The ultrasound was the first confusing thing. The woman turned on a large screen hanging on the wall in front of the bed she was laying on. She grabbed a TV remote and pointed it absently at the screen. Suddenly a black and white image appeared, and Elinor felt the ultrasound wand move slightly and there it was…a flashing little bundle of white on black.

“There’s the heart.”

Elinor’s own heart leapt, “Is -is it supposed to be that fast?”

“Yes. That’s completely normal.”

Ellie sighed

“Here’s the spinal cord” the tech crooned, “and the skull…hmmm”

“The eyes.” The tech continued but the crooning voice was gone. Her voice sounded more perplexed than anything.

_The eyes._

_Red? Glowing? Like the baby’s father._

“Um-when will the baby’s eyes be open?”

“Oh, not until much later. You’re only around Week 14,” the woman’s voice was back to the soothing croon again.

“I’m how far along?” Elinor’s eyes bulged.

“About 14 weeks, give or take a week.”

_What?_

“I’m confused.”

“Well a normal pregnancy is 40 weeks, and you are just entering into the second trimester so you’re already one third of the way there. You’re doing good! Just make sure to take your prenatals and folic acid. I’m sure the doctor will want to do some lab tests to make sure everything is ok.”

 

“It’s not unusual for women to have bleeding during pregnancy that mimics a normal cycle” the doctor blinked slowly. He seemed like he was bored and very…sleepy.

“This was a completely normal cycle, however.” Elinor insisted.

The doctor shrugged, “Then you miscounted, it happens all the time Ms. Savona.”

“Dr. Savona.” Ellie glared at him, “I have several advanced degrees, sir. I don’t really make miscalculations often.”

The doctor blinked slowly again, still looking bored. Ellie had to resist the urge to ask him how he could be uninterested in his job when he got to look at vaginas all day; she knew for a fact Rick (currently out in the waiting room) would give anything for the job. She refrained from this point of inquiry, instead opting for a more professional question as she toyed nervously with her necklace.

“What can you tell me about my baby? Is it healthy and developing normally?” she looked at him expectantly.

Doctor Sleepy moved his head back and forth in a so-so gesture, “the cranial region appears strangely shaped but that could just be an artifact of the ultrasound or it could just be slow developing at this stage. If it remains a concern in later ultrasounds, we can discuss options.”

“What kind of options?” she asked crisply, becoming very annoyed very quickly.

He blinked slowly, “Termination of the pregnancy could be something to consider.”

“Excuse me?”

“Generally, children with cranial deformities also have cognitive disabilities.”

“And yet, here you are!” Elinor snapped.

She didn’t sit around and wait for Doctor Sleepy to respond, she slid off the table and stormed out of the room.

 

She rode home with Fink, Allen and Rick. By the time she got back to her townhouse she had just about nibbled a hole in her own lip. She hadn’t spoken much on the way back and the guys thought it best not to pry.

Mark and Tate stopped at the pub to pick up wings and asked her if she wanted her usual. She stopped being hungry since having the dream. And now with the possibility of their baby not developing properly, how could she think about eating and carrying on with her friends like nothing was wrong.

_Pull yourself together Elinor!_

He had given her a child to take care of.

She pulled the ultrasound picture out of her purse and looked at it. If she could somehow show Thrawn one thing, just _one thing_ , it would be this.

_Their baby._

She smiled.

Mark and Tate burst in with dozens and dozens of wings. They had one dozen lemon pepper (for her), two dozen Buffalo (for Mark and Rick to fight over), two dozen parmesan garlic (for Rick and Tate to fight over), three dozen honey BBQ (for Allen and Fink with scraps to Mark and Tate) and one dozen of the house super spicy blend (for any poor idiot desperate enough to try them). Ellie sniffed at the lemon pepper, her stomach lurched slightly, but she didn’t immediately vomit.

Improvement.

“Let’s see the bun in the oven!” Rick motioned to the ultrasound picture.

“I don’t want you getting chicken wing all over it!” she held it protectively.

“Fine! Put it down and we’ll look at it!” Mark said with half a wing in his mouth.

She smiled. She put the picture down and went to the pantry to grab some crackers.

“Ahhhh, looks just like Uncle Finky! Skinny and no hair!” Allen wiggled his eyebrows.

“I have hair!” Fink pouted

“I don’t want to hear this,” Mark put two fingers in his ears

Elinor laughed as she picked up a chicken wing. The fun thing about having friends, she noticed was the plethora of “inside jokes.” There were the ever-amusing stories about Rick’s taste in cheap women, Fink’s lack of masculinity, including body hair, Mark’s inability to grasp certain Americanism like “shit-the-bed” and Tate’s charming shyness. There was Ellie’s own anti-social behavior which had once been viewed as enduring and had now melted away; jokes about which were likely to be replaced by a repertoire of embarrassing pregnancy stories.

She nibbled on the chicken wing and the crackers and listened to the guys talk about what kind of cars they would get if they ever won the lottery. It was Tate that suddenly stopped the conversation and looked at her mesmerized.

One by one they stopped and gaped, looking at her in undignified amusement.

She was devouring a house super spicy blend chicken wing like it was ice burg lettuce.

“Did you guys know that stale Ritz crackers taste just like fresh Townhouse crackers?” she asked vaguely grabbing another wing, “I determined that yesterday after puking up a bunch of Saltines.”

 

Greta Klary was irritated. The stormtroopers wouldn’t have thought to stop the Lieutenant Commander, so naturally Pyrondi did what Thrawn wanted her to do.

Escape the war room.

Klary was not expecting her to leave the damn ship.

The technicians had determined that the freak misalignment with the ventilation system caused the tractor beam controls to be rendered useless, so when the Chimaera’s last TIE Defender shot out of the hanger bay like it was being chased by a pack of rabid flying rancors, there was nothing to be done.

Captain Pellaeon had been placed into custody, as had most of the bridge command crew on duty. She watched them be rounded up and escorted to the detention block, all of them still woozy from the effects of the vertigon gas.

Commander Klary was now in command of her very own Imperial Star Destroyer. That should have made her happy. She should be striding down the command walkway in a congratulatory manner instead of pacing in anxious frustration.

Doctor Bastilis had scolded her on her cavalier attitude with the Grand Admiral. Apparently, he had to do a little extra work to keep the alien stable after his injuries and wasn’t as familiar with Chiss physiology as his incapacitated counterpart, Dr. Yermentic.

No matter.

It didn’t matter what Thrawn wanted Crissa Pyrondi to do on the surface below. Klary had everything she needed. That is, until the techs determined they were locked out of the ship’s main computer.

 

The clerk looked at the credit card again and frowned.

“I’m sorry, sir. It was denied again. Do you have some other form of payment?”

Major Thae Cran grumbled something under his breath. The sporting goods store was packed with people, since it was just days prior to a significant Earth holiday. The general populous felt compelled to quell their insecurities by putting limited thought into purchasing ridiculous trinkets, wrapping them in, yet more, _paper_ and giving them to random people. He leaned over to the younger man standing next to him and none to gently elbowed him in the ribs. Ezra Bridger jumped and glared at him.

“Pay the man, kid.” Cran rumbled.

Ezra produced his own credit card. His was also provided by Lt. Commander Pyrondi prior to their departure from the Chimaera as a means of paying for their necessities while on planet, watching after Elinor. The clerk swiped the young Jedi’s card and waited.

Ezra was back to staring at something off in the distance, when the man at the register gave him the same bad news.

“Do you have another card, I can use? Cash?” the cashier looked pointedly at the line of people behind Cran and Ezra.

“How much does it cost?” Cran squinted.

“One twenty-two seventy-nine.”

Cran looked at Ezra who shrugged.

“We’ll be back.” Cran grunted.

“We’ll be here, at least until 6PM Christmas Eve,” The man smiled.

The two strode out of the store. Ezra had come to expect long periods of moody silence followed by loud, rumbling outbursts from Cran. He was overdue for an outburst and the fiasco with the payment cards was likely to send him over the edge. The Major was full of surprises though.

He merely scowled and gestured for Ezra to follow.

“What do you suppose that was all about?”

“Maybe something wrong with their card payment machine?” Ezra offered.

“No, I saw other payment cards working. It was just our cards that didn’t work. I’ll have to make contact with Pyrondi and ask her about it. She set these silly things up.” Cran shook his head in disgust as he looked at the thin plastic payment card.

“So, what do we do in the mean time?” Ezra asked.

“Get something to eat.”

“How? We have no money.”

That’s when Major Cran had his overdue outburst complete with expletives and some not-so-pleasant things to say about _paper._

 

Drew did not take the news the way she thought he would. She was expecting him to be happy – and he was - he was just more _confused_ than happy.

She had once again traveled via bus but had requested he pick her up at the paved road. This had tipped him off that something was up. His sister was quite capable of walking the five miles to the house from the bus stop, thank you very much. She would never, in her right mind, _ask_ to be picked up. Of course, he always did, but the fact that she had _asked_ …

“Ellie Bean!” He waved at her.

The smile made her eyes crinkle, but it was easy to tell she was tired. Very tired.

“Hi Drew,” she said softly and gave him a hug. She seemed somehow smaller and more delicate, but it could have just been the giant blue cowl neck sweater.

“Let’s get goin’. I got a frozen pizza with yer name on it”

When she entered the house she immediately sat at the table, winded. He scrutinized her with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Ya want some hot chocolate?” Drew asked.

“No thank you.” She shook her head

“Ok, Elle, ya scarin’ the shit outta me. Ya ask fer me to pick ya up. Ya look like death dressed up and ya just said nah t’ hot coco. What’s on yer mind?”

“Drew…” she looked up at him.

He still had his arms crossed over his chest and he cocked his head and lifted his eyebrows, “Yeah?”

“I’m pregnant.”

He didn’t move for a bit after that. Afraid he’d do or say something wrong.

“I’m about 14 weeks along.”

He tried to bob his head in understanding – he was certain he looked like a deranged turkey trying to swallow a pebble.

“I had an ultra-sound on Tuesday. Things look…ok” her voice cracked.

“Um. I – uh. Wow. Ellie, that’s great!” Drew finally came alive and knelt to give her a hug, “I had no idea you…um, were seein’ somebody or wanted uh, uh,…kids.”

He looked at Elinor then and realized he probably said the wrong thing – she started to cry.

When their father was alive, he had passed down little nuggets of “man advice” to his son. Things he needed to know to get along in the world. The first of which was, if you made a woman cry, you take off your hat, you look her in the eye, you say that you’re sorry and then you shut your mouth and listen to what you did wrong. Drew had asked Thomas Savona at one point, what he was supposed to be listening for, but his father just shook his head and told him he’d figure it out or he’d get slapped a bunch of times.

The second nugget of “man advice” was, once she told you what you did wrong, you fixed it.

Step one: Hat.

Step Two: Eyes. Geez, when did they get so sad? She had just smiled at me, didn’t she?

Step Three: “I’m sorry Ellie. What can I do?”

Elinor though, knew him too well. She brushed her tears away and laughed.

“You just used Dad’s man nugget thing, didn’t you?”

“ ‘Sat obvious?” Drew asked guiltily

“Does a bear shit in the woods?” Elinor snorted.

“Hey now woman, stop stealin’ my lines.” Drew jokingly scolded her.

She beamed up at him through her damp eye lashes as he sighed.

“C’mon, tell me ‘bout it.” He sat down next to her at the table.

“There’s not much I can tell. You know I worked on that project this summer.”

“Yeah. ‘Sat where you met the baby’s father?” Drew asked quietly

“Yes.” She whispered.

“He uh – he didn’t…” Drew screwed up his face and clenched his fist, “It wasn’t like what that Tashi o’ Tachi guy tried ta do?”

“Oh no. Nothing like that.” Ellie looked horrified.

Drew exhaled loudly. Good, he didn’t have to go to prison for cold blooded murder. He was almost too busy being relieved about no jail time to see that she started crying again.

“Tell me?” he urged gently.

“I fell in love with him. He fell in love with me. Easy, right?” she sniffed.

“Nothin’s ever easy, Ellie, ya of all people know tha.” Drew held her hand, “Where’s he? He know ‘bout the baby?”

“He’s deployed. He doesn’t know.”

“Military, huh? I’m sure if ya let someone know yer lookin’ for him and ya got news, he’ll contact ya, right?”

She looked at him then and in all the years of seeing each other through triumphs and tragedies, ups and downs, the ways of life, Andrew never saw his sister look so defeated.

“No.”

He felt his brow furrow a bit, “No? Ya mean, ya don’t wan ‘im t’ know?”

“No, I mean. There isn’t a way I can possibly reach him. Ever.”

He stared down at his hands.

_Military. Deployed. Can’t be reached…._

“Dead?”

She inhaled a shuddering breath, “More like missing in action”

_Damn._

“I’m sorry Elinor.”

She nodded dully, “I was feeling sorry for myself when I got back, but then the morning sickness started and I’ve been too busy reliving everything I’ve eaten to really focus on anything else.”

“Sometimes yer gastro intestine-ernals are smarter than ya give ‘em credit.”

She smirked at him. “Yuh, huh. Didja get that from Doctor Phil?”

“Hell nah, I got that from the radio commercial on the pudding o’ yogurt stuff.” He grinned, pleased with himself.

“Yogurt.” She giggled.

“Whatever, either way, I ain’t eatin’ it.”

“Speaking of eating,” She stood up and walked to the kitchen, “I’ll make a pizza.”

“Ah nah, nah! We’re goin’ out!”

“What? Drew we’re not making the drive all the way into town!” As Ellie turned, Drew could see the first signs of pregnancy in her profile.

“Why not? Imma hungry ‘n yer pregnant. Ya can’t just have frozen pizzas while yer here, now can ya. My niece o’ nephew gunna be eatin’ good.”

“Drew I’ll only throw it up.” She was on her feet now shaking her head at him as he went to grab her coat.

“Welp, Dad use ta say, it wouldn’t be Christmas without at least one o’ us pukin’. Merry Christmas Ellie Bean, now let’s go git somethin’ fried.”

 

Crissa Pyrondi had been down to the planet only once before, very briefly. She had wanted to go explore, but her duties would not allow it, then once it became clear someone had been smuggled aboard the Chimaera to assassinate Elinor Savona, Thrawn had cancelled shore leaves.

Pyrondi thought the opportunity to visit had passed and she had been at least happy learning about some of the oddities of Earth. She had particularly enjoyed working with Elinor and had warred with herself over saying something to the Grand Admiral about letting the woman stay aboard the Chimaera.

In the end she kept her mouth shut; it was not her place to intervene in the lives of others – especially in that of her superior officer. Now Crissa fervently wished she had. If he had let Elinor stay, they likely wouldn’t be in this mess. Why was it, males of every species, no matter how brilliant they were, turned into absolute idiots when it came to women?

And here she was, falling head first out the cockpit of her stolen TIE Defender in a forest area about fifty kilometers to the north of Elinor’s home in Uptown! And who in the Nine Hells knew what had happened to the Grand Admiral? And what was her kriffing boot caught on? – She stumbled over a tree root, twisting her head and neck just in time to see something move in the leaves, a yard in front of her.

It was barely discernable, brown with beady eyes and an angular head. It was bunched up slightly, curling in on itself, hissing menacingly.

The locals called it a Copper Head.

And it was just one of many in this part of the woodland.

 

“I was expectin’ ya to end up wit one of them guys from yer work.” Drew was saying over dinner.

“You mean the entourage?” Elinor chuckled.

“Ya, but not t’ one tha’ scared the chickens” Drew waved his fork at her, “He’s in a different kinda coupe”

Elinor threw back her head and laughed while Drew snickered, “Nah, I’m serious Ellie, he had the chickens inna uproar. Kept on tryin’ to go look fer babies“ saying the last word with the kind of prissiness Fink would use.

“They don’t know any better Drew. They’ve never been on a farm.” Elinor was still laughing

“Ya sure ‘bout that? That Rick guy looked _real_ comfortable.”

Drew laughed too when Elinor snorted with laughter. It was to that comfortable point where they were laughing at each other just for laughing. It came to an abrupt end though, when the two FBI agents walked into the diner.

“Ms. Savona?” the man Agent Caglioni had called Doug stood a little too close to their table.

“Ms. Savona, was my mother.” Elinor looked up at him, her eyes resting briefly on Caglioni who stood next to him.

Doug sneered down at her, “Dr. Savona, then?”

“Doctor Elinor Savona, yes.”

“Who’s askin’?” Drew jutted his chin out to the men.

“Agent Douglas Whittland, FBI. This is Agent Matt Caglioni, You her husband?”

“Why ya askin’?” Drew persisted with a smirked.

Elinor tried to hide her smile. Always the protective older brother. He’d play twenty questions with the school yard bully to distract him while she ran away. This wasn’t school, and these weren’t bullies and she certainly couldn’t run away.

“That’s not your business, sir.” Whittland said flatly turning back to Elinor.

“Dr. Sav-“

“So ya guys, really cops?” Drew interrupted.

Elinor couldn’t contain her laughter anymore.

“Sir, we are conducting a federal investigation. We’d like to ask Dr. Savona some questions.” Caglioni jumped in as Whittland reddened with anger.

“Ah, alright then, didja wan’ some coffee t’ go, Darlin’?” Drew winked.

He was laying it on thick.

“No thank you, Dumpling.” She rolled her eyes as he went to pay the bill, leaving her with Caglioni and Whittland.

“Is he bothering you, ma’am?” Caglioni asked frowning.

“Only for twenty-nine years.”

Caglioni furrowed his brow. She smiled thinly, closed her eyes and shook her head.

“He’s my brother.”

Understanding clearly dawned on him because he relaxed noticeably. Elinor giggled. Was he going to arrest Drew because he was “bothering” her? Amusing and sort of sweet, unlike his thuggish partner.

Without preamble, Whittland dove right into questions, “What can you tell us about the Chimaera?”

“A myth. It was said to be a monster made up of many parts of different animals. Supposedly it was invincible.”

“Very good.” Whittland said condescendingly, “Now tell us what you really know.”

“Excuse me?”

“What is the Chimaera? It is a code name for something. What is it?” Whittland was agitated.

Her brow furrowed. It wasn’t that this man was asking about the Chimaera. It wasn’t that his partner had asked about Thrawn, it was that he was doing it with such _forcefulness_ that made her stop and look at him. Again, she felt it. Cold. Malevolence.

Danger.

“I’m sorry Agent Whittland, I really don’t know what you mean.” It was easy to feign confusion because Elinor was indeed _confused_.

His eyes were narrowed, and he stepped even closer to her “Well, I don’t believe you.”

“Doug.” Caglioni put a hand up to his partner’s shoulder in warning as Drew came back to the table. The care-free easy smile on her brother’s face was gone, he noticed Whittland’s body language and the flash of defiance on Elinor’s face. He stepped forward and awkwardly bumped into Whittland.

“Oops, sorry there, man, gotta be gracious t’ the ladies.” Drew bobbed his head at him as he held out his hand to Ellie.

“Somthin’ I doubt ya know nothin’ ‘bout.” Drew continued under his breath. Ellie smacked him discretely on his arm in warning.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be of more help Agent Whittland, Agent Caglioni.” She did send an apologetic look to Caglioni, who had at least tried to mediate. It wasn’t his fault he was stuck with a Neanderthal for a partner. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, ma’am” Caglioni nodded to her.

 

George Harding was pleased overall with the way things were going. The game pieces were set. Despite Klary’s incompetence in letting Thrawn lock the ship’s computer and the escape of one of his more loyal officers down to the planet, things were going well.

He had Elinor Savona under surveillance. They would use her as leverage and if anyone from the Chimaera tried to intervene, he would know.

Something important would happen soon and the game pieces would move again, but no matter how they moved, it was going to be in his favor. He could always tell when things like this would work out.

It was a gift.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi Again,
> 
> I'm starting to get antsy because I'm struggling with Part III - plus the next chapter is rather amusing (or at least I find it so - but my humor is a bit dry) therefore I'm doing a posting blitz. 
> 
> Please note: Klary is locked out of the Chimaera - so that little sequence that Thrawn did at the last minute in the last chapter likely caused the lock out...


	30. Accelerated Schedule

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning:  
> Pregnancy
> 
> In This Chapter:
> 
> Drew doesn't like the FBI  
> Time to "Shop" - it's a 4 letter word  
> A tale of two ultrasounds  
> Elinor tries to suppress the dreams by her normal means...but it doesn't help.  
> Rick knows!  
> Claire and Dr. Phillips   
> Pictures of...Bob?  
> Butter and lots of it.

 

Drew had not been happy about the FBI especially the “Mr. Potato Head” that had tried to intimidate his pregnant sister in a diner, when she had already answered the same damn questions previously.

“Ya need t’ get a lawyer, Ellie. Get a shark, er somethin’. I don’t like the way that one was lookin’ at ya. Like he’d hit ya if the other one woun’t there.”

“And you think a lawyer is going to stop an FBI agent from beating me up?” Ellie looked over at her brother.

That had only made it worse. So much so that he almost didn’t let her go back to Uptown after Christmas. Elinor convinced him, in the end, that she had her friends there to help her and that she would keep him informed of everything, from the little bundle growing in her uterus to her search for a new job.

“I don’t need t’ hear all the details, like the uterus bit. Just gimme the Yip review o’ the doctor visit, ‘k?”

“You mean the Yelp review?”

“Yer a pain in the ass, Elinor an’ I hope the kid is just like ya.” Drew grumped as she gave him a hug goodbye.

“Love you too, Andrew.”

 

Upon returning to her townhouse and finding that she could take a deep breath without feeling the need to instantly vomit, she decided it would be a good idea to find a new doctor. Ellie refused to go back to see Dr. Sleepy and his gaggle of nosy, judgmental nurses, instead opting for a female practitioner across town. It would be a jaunt to get there by bus but if she was going to have her tonsils inspected via her cervix on a regular basis, she didn’t want Bubba from Midas Muffler doing it.

After making, yet another appointment for consultation with a new OB/GYN, a pang of worry crept into her consciousness. She had no clothes to wear. Her pants were uncomfortable. She had no crib. She wasn’t even sure she even held a baby before.

_Looks like you’ll be busy, Elinor._

She figured she ought to call Fink, he would never forgive her if she went without him.

“Hi.”

“Oh! You’re back, what’s up girlfriend?”

“Um, Fink, could we go… _shopping_?” She said the last word like it was something naughty.

Elinor hated shopping and Fink had always made a point of dragging her out several times a year to do “retail therapy.” Her promises to do it were conditional if he would allow her a grace period away from watching the latest romantic comedy with him.

Fink had been, after all, her guide to pop culture – movies, TV, who’s-dating-who-in-Hollywood, everything minus music of course. When it came to music, Ellie had him. Half of what she heard on the radio she didn’t truly know anything about, choosing to ask Fink or resorting to context. Either way she figured it out and she learned quickly that she’d prefer to stay inside and listen to the radio rather than go out shopping or watch the romantic comedy he was always trying to pawn off on her.

Even though she was expecting it, the response to her question made her jump and she fumbled with the phone. While, it was several feet from her ear during the impromptu juggling act, she could still hear him.

“OH MY GOD! GURRRRRRRRRRRRL! OF COURSE!”

_Great. At least someone was happy._

“Allen and I will be by to pick you up in like 30 minutes! Okay? Okay! I’m so excited! Hugs. Love ya! Bye!”

He hung up before she could stammer out a response.

 

Four hours later she had fallen asleep in the car on the way back home. Allen gently nudged her awake while Fink flamboyantly strutted inside with piles of baby and maternity paraphernalia. She trudged up to the front door and was about to go inside when movement caught her eye. Elinor squinted into the dark, certain she saw someone near the hedge. She moved her glasses further up her nose and sighed, acknowledging she was tired, hormonal and just about ready to murder Fink if she heard him call her belly a “baby bump” one more time.

That night she dreamed. It was the same dream she had when she returned from the Chimaera, but she realized suddenly with terrifying clarity that the erratic beating of her heart was not her heart at all. It was her baby, thrashing inside her womb, frantic to find safety and the pain she felt was not from running away or from an injury. It was from the panicked desperation of not finding protection so urgently needed. It was needed now. Now.

NOW.

Elinor Savona woke screaming, writhing in terror, covered in sweat and certain that she and her unborn child would die at the hands of cold-blooded Imperials in white armor.

 

She watched the screen expectantly, felt the pressure inside and then…there.

Just as the image cleared the fetus kicked, as if to say, “ _yes, I’m here and I know you see me_.” Elinor giggled. The technician smiled kindly.

“Would you like to know the sex?” the woman asked.

“I would yes, but isn’t it a bit early?” Ellie continued to stare at the screen, hypnotized by the wonder growing inside her.

“Not at 17 weeks.” The ultrasound technician pressed a key on her keyboard to take another picture.

She glanced questioningly down at the woman, “What? I thought I was only 14 or 15 weeks?”

“Not based on these measurements.”

Elinor had studied physics and engineering not life science but even she knew something was off, “I don’t mean to sound stupid or demeaning but…are you sure?”

“Yes, ma’am. She’s definitely around the 17-week mark.”

“She?” Elinor could feel the emotion well up inside her.

_A girl._

Thrawn had given her a daughter.

The tech smiled again and finished up, telling her to dress and make her way to Room 4 where the doctor would see her. Elinor took her time, choosing to expel the overflow of emotion in private. When she was ready, she made her way to Room 4.

Doctor Nuri was a petite woman with a big voice and a ready smile. She looked over Ellie’s chart and at the ultrasound photos and noted the cranial “differences” that Dr. Sleepy had. She was not overly concerned with them – indicating that many babies had oddly shaped heads and they would be even odder upon exiting the birth canal. She did express confusion over the previous ultrasound pictures and physician’s notes, however.

“This was taken last week.” Doctor Nuri said motioning to a copy of the ultrasound picture Ellie had taped to her refrigerator door. She then posted the new pictures alongside it, “These were taken today.”

Elinor looked at her, “Is there something wrong?”

The doctor paused, “Nothing is physically wrong…it’s just…there has been three weeks’ worth of growth in a single week.”

“Oh.” Elinor didn’t know what to say, “Is that normal?”

“No. Not really.”

There was a long pause.

“I’m going to order some blood tests before you leave here, and I’d like you to come back in three days to have another ultrasound.” Doctor Nuri smiled reassuringly at her, “It is likely just a mix up. Don’t worry. Rest. Eat. Work on Kegels.”

 

She couldn’t rest. She slept. A lot. But it wasn’t restful. Her sleep was haunted by dreams and she resorted to calling her neurologist to break the news of her pregnancy. Dr. Joy had been treating her for five years and was familiar enough with her case to immediately send in a script for an increased dose of her normal medicine.

A pregnancy was considered parasitic in nature when it came to the average level of anti-epilepic drugs in a patient’s blood stream. Therefore, her normal dose would need to be increased as her pregnancy progressed, and she reasoned that the decrease in medicine her body was seeing was likely the cause of her disturbing dreams. But the increase in dose did nothing to help and she continued to wake sobbing, calling out for Thrawn and wailing in grief at finding herself alone.

In her lonely state, she would dream of her daughter and what would become of her. Would she be like her father? Strong and sure. Or would she be more like her? Timid and afraid of the world. How would she endure being half human, half alien, in a world that didn’t know aliens even existed?

Elinor realized as so many parents often do, that one doesn’t truly understand or know fear at all, until one has a child.

 

Her entourage had arrived, and they brought her wings. Not the lemon pepper wings that she used to enjoy but the spicy habanero house blend that she craved – they got her two dozen and they picked up Tabasco sauce too.

She loved her entourage.

“You must shit weapon’s grade plutonium, Savona!” Rick joked as he watched her dip a wing into the Tabasco.

“It’s better than what you do in your bathroom, I’m sure.” she cocked an eyebrow at him.

“So how did the appointment go?” Fink crooned. As he walked by, he gently patted her belly.

“Well, apparently I got a big girl on my hands.” Ellie looked down at herself, “She’s grown a week in three days.”

She had told them all she was having a girl and that her growth rate was…unexpected.

“So, what does that mean?” Mark asked intently.

“I don’t really know.” She sighed, “Doctor Nuri said that my progesterone levels are off the chart. She’s never seen anything like it before. My metabolism has accelerated dramatically. I’ve lost fifteen pounds even though I’m eating constantly. The baby is gaining weight and she’s healthy…but I’m being sucked dry, like she’s a little parasite.”

They all laughed except for Rick who was looking at her oddly.

“Was her father a big guy?” Tate asked, “Uh, if you don’t mind me asking…” he added awkwardly.

“He was tall and broad shouldered.”

“Ugh that doesn’t bode well for you during labor!” Allen joked

“Don’t scare her, Allen!” Fink admonished him, “Besides it’s the head that is the worst – babies go out head first. Did her Daddy have a big head?”

They all snorted and laughed.

“Fink, I don’t think that’s something you ask.” Mark looked at him sternly.

Fink looked mortified, “No, no. I mean…”

“I know what you mean, Benjamin!” She rolled her eyes, “And yes…he was tall, board shouldered, he had dark hair.” She looked pointedly at Fink, “And he was intelligent and handsome.”

There was a long pause.

“Well, he’d have to be if he got you.” Tate smiled reassuringly at her. There were hums of agreement around the table.

“Thanks guys.” She wiped a tear away.

“Hey, I know! Who’s up for a game of Cards Against Humanity?” Allen asked suddenly to lighten the mood.

There was a collective gasp, and everyone started talking at once. She got up to grab some water from the kitchen and noticed Rick behind her.

“Do you need something? I got some Coronas in the refrigerator for you and got a nasty look from the cashier when I checked out at the grocery store. I don’t think she believed this was a beer belly,” Ellie pointed to her expanding middle.

Rick chuckled, “Thanks. No, I wanted to ask you something.”

“Sure.”

“Was the baby’s father human?”

Elinor didn’t have the luxury of having a half-eaten chicken wing in her mouth and so there was no hiding it when it fell open. Rick didn’t give her a chance to tell him he was sick/crazy.

“Because a lot of what you’re saying about the baby’s growth rate, sounds like she might not be entirely human.”

He was completely serious.

“He could have been an alien in disguise. He could have made it seem like he was human, but some of them are really good at pretending.”

If she hadn’t known Rick Haines for five years, Ellie would have sworn the man in her kitchen was a raving lunatic, in need of pharmaceutical assistance. If she hadn’t been aboard the Chimaera and seen it with her own eyes, she would have said Rick was suffering from a stroke.

He continued on, “The disguises they use are really pretty inventive, you can really get –“

“He wasn’t in disguise!” She blurted, “At least…not all the time.”

There was a long pause, while Rick studied her.

“So, I am right?”

She closed her eyes, remembering the color of his skin, the warmth of his touch, the sound of his voice. Those beautiful eyes that would look at her and see her. Really truly see her.

She clasped her hand over her mouth and began to cry again.

 

The next day, she sat on the couch waiting, she knew he’d come and sure enough the doorbell rang.

Ellie opened it slowly and waited for him to give his usual smart-ass greeting but it didn’t come. Instead he shuffled from one foot to the other and looked down at her carefully.

“Hey.” Rick said softly

“Hey.” She smiled gently, “Come on in.”

He apparently had made a friend at his local watering hole who was really interested in conspiracies involving extraterrestrial life. She (Claire was her name) had convinced him that aliens were not just real they were all over the place. Area 51 had been a settlement for them when they first got here and once, they had adapted to the culture, language and body configuration of the local populous they decided they would go out and see what they could see…and reproduce as needed.

“Wait. Wait. Wait. Rick, this is ridiculous. My situation is completely different.” Elinor wanted to tell him he was bat-crap crazy and that Claire had used her feminine wiles to twist his already-wacked sense of reality.

There was just one problem. Elinor didn’t _know_ if Rick was bat-crap crazy or if Claire was as nutty as she sounded.

“Oh? Tell me about your story then?” Rick lifted his eyebrows and crossed his legs giving her the Barbara-Walters-during-an-interview look.

“What? No. I – I don’t have a story. It’s private. I – I just have a baby, that’s unique and I need help. That’s all. That’s all there is to know.”

“Awww, c’mon Savona! Not gunna tell me the juicy stuff?” Rick whined, “There was juicy stuff, right?”

“Rick, I’m going to kick your ass out of my house, and if you don’t think I won’t do it, just watch me.”

“Alright, Alright, suit yourself, but I’d like to help.”

She stood with her arms crossed over her chest ready to place a well-timed kick to his groin if he mentioned anything more about alien probes or inspections of her female area.

“There’s a doctor that can help monitor and deliver the baby when you’re ready.”

“Really?” Elinor asked skeptically, “This doctor’s not going to be surprised when she comes out blue with red eyes?”

“No. In fact he probably already knows what type of alien she is.” Rick chuckled.

Elinor scowled at him.

Rick sighed, “Do you want to go talk to him? I mean it’s worth a shot, right? You can see if you trust him enough. I don’t think it’s a good idea that you give birth on the bathroom floor. You’ll want postnatal care too.”

 

Elinor should have known.

The clinic of Dr. Daniel Phillips was sandwiched between Lin-Lins Stir Fry (they deliver anywhere in the Uptown area!) and a shop that offered tarot card and palm readings (your future awaits inside!) The waiting room was small, the car air fresheners shaped like pine trees were tastefully hung around the room, probably in an attempt to cover the smell of cat urine.

She was called back by Claire and Elinor knew immediately why Rick liked her. Claire wore black. Black clothes, black lipstick, black eyeliner, black nail polish. Her hair was dyed black and she had a lip piercing, but she smiled kindly at Ellie as she led her to the back room.

“So, you’re Rick’s friend. He was thinkin’ you had gotten knocked up by a Trockian Jonny, but he was afraid of saying anything. I told him he ought to ask. You never can tell with guys these days.” She said conversationally.

“Knocked up by a – a what?”

“Oh, it’s one of the migratory species that came from the southern part of Area 51 in the 1960s.” she clarified helpfully, “At least it wasn’t a Clipper Trob, ‘cause your still here” she laughed.

“Yeah, lucky for me.” Elinor said sardonically

“Alright well we prolly won’t do a physical exam yet because she might bite back a bit, so he’ll just come in a talk to you.” Claire waved at her and winked at Rick playfully.

“Brilliant, isn’t she?” Rick elbowed Ellie gently in the ribs.

“I can barely see.” She said dully.

“Oh c’mon. If your guy was really an alien, you should be a little more open minded about this!”

“He would find this ridiculous.” She snapped.

“ _Oh really_? Why?” Rick asked giving her that Barbara Walters look again.

“I – I…never mind.”

Just then Dr. Phillips walked in and greeted the two people in his office. She didn’t like stereotypes; they were hurtful and unfair and almost always wrong. There was one stereotype that she couldn’t get out of her mind upon entering the clinic; that of the crazy scientist – like Dr. Frankenstein - enthusiastic about unorthodox methodologies with wild eyes and unkept hair. That was Dr. Phillips.

“Ah excellent, excellent! Which is the female?”

Elinor blinked.

She raised her hand.

“Ah good, good. Are you the one carrying the baby?”

She nodded.

“Ah excellent, excellent! Is this the father?” he motioned to Rick

“Oh no, sir. I’m just a friend. I know Claire.” Rick explained as Elinor sat there with her mouth hanging open.

“Ah good, good.” He looked back over to her, “Are you the alien?”

She shook her head. At some point soon, she was going to have to talk, she knew, but she wasn’t sure she could bring herself out of her stupor to do it.

“Ah, excellent, excellent. So, you were impregnated by the alien?”

She nodded slowly.

“Ah, good, good. Was it male or female?”

She cocked her head at him and scowled, but he just waited politely for her response.

“M-Male.”

“Ah excellent, excellent. Could you identify the species if I showed you pictures?”

She frowned again. Referring to Thrawn as a specimen to be identified was insulting. The doctor apparently saw her distress and tried to sooth her.

“I’m sorry my dear, if it is too uncomfortable for you. If the memory is too traumatic or if you don’t remember, I understand. We have cases like this all the time.”

“I just don’t like referring to him as a sample of a species. He was more than that to me. He had a name. He was important to me.” She felt tears welling up in her eyes.

“Ah, I understand now, I understand. For the health of your baby it would be helpful to know more about her parentage.”

“Yes, of course. I’m sorry.” She dabbed at her eyes.

“It’s quite alright my dear, quite alright. I will show you some pictures and perhaps you can tell me if any of them look like your…gentlemen, yes?”

“Alright.” Elinor nodded.

“Ah excellent, excellent. Let’s go to the exam room, then. Should your friend go with you?”

She looked at Rick who shrugged, “Sure, he can come.”

 

They didn’t have her undress, but they did have her sit on the exam table. Rick sat in a chair on one side of her and Claire sat in a chair on the other, next to the ultrasound setup. The doctor came in holding several laminated pages.

“Ah, Elinor, Elinor. I’m going to show you pictures and I want you to tell me which one most closely resembles…what was your friends name?”

“I-um…can’t tell you.” Elinor’s lip quivered.

“Ah of course, of course. For simplicity we’ll call him Bob. Can you tell me which of these looks most like Bob?”

Her mind flashed to that awkward conversation with Dr. Yermentic onboard the Chimaera after she was released from sick bay. The woman had made sure to explain the finer points of male anatomy to Elinor as if she were pre-pubescent girl that had stumbled on a high school biology text book. It was far less academic and a much more sternly worded treatise on sex than she was expecting from a doctor, but it got the point across. Although she would never ever admit it to anyone, it had been helpful (the dominant position had been quite _pleasing_ ).

Her face flushed at the memory but also at the images in front of her.

“We have pictures of them in the un-erect state too, if that would be helpful.” The doctor said.

She heard herself wheeze.

“Anything familiar?” Claire asked

“Um – actually we spent a lot of time talking.”

Claire looked disappointed and so too did Dr. Phillips.

“Hm. Nothing? Really? Claire, dear. Go get me the other pictures please.”

“No, really it’s ok, I don’t need to see…them.”

The doctor studied her and nodded, “I suppose I can reverse engineer things, but since the baby is a girl…we’ll get a look at her via ultrasound.”

“Ok.” Elinor’s face still burned.

“Alright then,” Claire said kindly, “lay back and roll up your shirt. The gel will be a little cold on your belly.”

Ellie leaned back rolled up her new maternity top and felt the slight tickle of the gel on her skin. She looked up only to see the same pictures of alien genitalia she was previously presented with pinned to the ceiling labeled (genus and species perhaps?). She chose to focus on the sound coming from the machine next to her. Like horses running – her baby’s heartbeat.

“Ah, interesting, interesting. I’ve never seen anything like this.” The doctor mused, “what kind of metabolic rate did your friend have?”

“He was very active. He didn’t require as much sleep as I did.”

“How ‘bout his sex drive?” Claire asked

Elinor shot her a dirty look, but the doctor looked at her expectantly. Rick looked down at her too, once again with that damn Barbara Walters look.

She couldn’t help herself. Her face split into a huge grin.

Claire smiled devilishly and nodded slowly, “Yeaaaaaaah?”

“Yeaaaaaaah” Elinor sighed.

“Ah interesting, interesting. I think I understand. Your baby has a very high metabolism. You’ll need to increase your caloric intake by as much as one thousand percent if I’m correct.”

“One thousand percent!?” Elinor looked at him incredulously, “How am I supposed to do that?”

The doctor sat down and opened his prescription pad and wrote out a script, he handed it to her and looked at her over the rim of his glasses.

“I expect you to follow that. I will see you back in two weeks. Ok?”

She looked at the paper and then back at him, “You wrote me a prescription for butter?!”

“Yes, _at least_ two sticks three times a day, every day. That will give you the necessary number of calories to keep up with her.” He pointed to her belly, “In the meantime, call me if Bob should come back in town. I would love to meet him!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi
> 
> Yes, this one was a bit silly but sometimes you need to do these things. There is a reason though, I promise. Claire and Dr. Phillips will be back later in the story and not necessarily for comedic relief.
> 
> Now...I'm off to beat my head against the wall over Part III. Once I finish posting Part II (still proof reading) I will gladly take suggestions because my outline for Part III right now is....let me just reiterate: I don't know what I'm doing.


	31. Dangerous Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning:  
> Strong Language (I guess)
> 
> In This Chapter
> 
> Watching the watcher  
> Watching the watchers as they...watch?  
> Two Imperials and a Jedi: looking out for Elinor  
> Nice jewelry  
> Why not just ask?  
> Reassurance from the FBI  
> The only one on the Chimaera?

 

They had watched as she made her way into her townhouse. One of her friends had preceded her entry, his arms full of bags and he was happily humming to himself. The other had helped her out of the vehicle. She looked tired and fragile. Ezra noted that her pregnancy was obvious now.

Major Thae Cran was apparently not made aware of Elinor’s condition because his shock rippled from him like an audible gasp through the Force. It made her stop and peer into the shrubbery he and Ezra were hiding behind. The young Jedi reached out through the Force to her.

She was indeed tired but there was still determination behind it. She was sad though and…worried.

Very worried.

Ezra reached out further and immediately sensed the hostility. It was like an angry ocean threatening to crush her with waves of bitterness and rage as she made her way inside. He focused on the nauseating feeling _directed_ at her and found it. A vehicle parked three cars down. He indicated to Cran that they were not the only ones watching, but apparently the Imperial had already figured that out without the Force.

“We move.” Cran whispered

“Where?”

“To watch the watcher.” He motioned to the car.

Ezra nodded.

 

Little did the two parties know Crissa Pyrondi was also watching.

She had made her way out of the jungle of horrors and having realized that Klary would instantly limit her access to resources down on the surface, began procuring funds.

Through illegal means, of course.

She would probably be wanted by the local authorities sooner rather than later but the “kind gentlemen” in the large tractor trailer who let her _borrow_ his credit card wasn’t likely to report her immediately. He wasn’t exactly an upstanding citizen and reporting her would bring scrutiny on his own illicit activities – something called crystal meth, was highly frowned upon. Still, the more than two thousand credits - or dollars - she supposed they were called, was enough to get her set up for surveillance.

Pyrondi was expecting Klary to send someone down after her or Elinor shortly and was a bit surprised that no one had come calling. The feeling didn’t last long, however when she noticed the man in the car eyeing Elinor’s townhouse. She had grabbed the survival kit from the TIE before making the trek into Uptown and it thankfully included a decent pair of macrobinoculars.

The man was middle aged and heavy set, dressed professionally in a suit. She recognized him by Thrawn’s description as one of the men that had questioned Elinor about her time in Imperial hands. Apparently one of Earth’s law enforcement agencies had heard the words _Chimaera_ , _Star Destroyer_ and _Thrawn_ and felt the need to investigate, for whatever reason.

The Grand Admiral had just started his own investigation into their interest, concerned that their interest was derived from Axon’s treason. His investigation was still evolving prior to the mutiny and he hadn’t briefed Pyrondi on any of his findings.

There was movement to her right and she shifted the macros to the hedge closest to Elinor’s door. Crissa caught her breath.

Cran and Bridger.

Finally, she found them!

The trick now was to get their attention without attracting the notice of the man in the car. They had to consolidate their resources and Cran and the Jedi needed to know what had happened aboard the Chimaera.

At one point it looked like they would be discovered by Elinor herself, but thankfully the poor woman was so exhausted she was in no mood to investigate the rustling in the brush.

Pyrondi sighed in relief. They would likely try to get a closer look at the man in the car – she was confident they had noticed him too, based on their body language. She put the macrobinoculars away and started around the backside of the building.

 

Ezra moved around the hedge cautiously; afraid that too much noise would startle the neighbor pet again – a small yappy dog no bigger than a Loth cat but loud enough to start a chain reaction of barking up and down the street. He was focusing on the small limbs underfoot so much, that he ran into the back of Major Cran when the Imperial suddenly stopped in mid stride. Cran grunted and held up his hand to stop; motioning silently that someone was coming.

Ezra stepped back as Cran drew his blaster and edged closer to the side of the building. The young Jedi inhaled deeply and reached out to the Force, but before he could wave Cran off the Major darted forward. He pivoted on his right foot, suddenly grabbing at a kneeling shadow and pressing the barrel of his weapon to the figure’s head.

“Stand up.” He growled, “Slowly.”

“It’s good to see you too, Major.” Crissa Pyrondi smiled up at him.

 

The man in the car did not stay long once Elinor was inside for the evening, likely convinced she would not be going out again. Cran, Bridger and Pyrondi went to a diner a mile from Elinor’s townhouse, where Crissa explained her reason for being there. Cran and Bridger were overwhelmed by the extent of the damage Klary had caused and the three could only speculate as to the status of the Chimaera and her crew.

“No word from Captain Pellaeon or the Grand Admiral?” Cran asked.

“None. When I flew out of the hanger, the Captain was supposedly on the bridge under the influence of vertigon gas.” Pyrondi looked sadly at Cran, “And as for Thrawn…” her voice cracked.

Cran shook his head, “You followed orders Crissa.”

“I left my post in time of mutiny!” she snarled.

“Because a Grand Admiral ordered you to. It was a mutiny to usurp his command.” Cran snapped back

Pyrondi blinked back tears. It didn’t matter how much he tried to reassure her, she would likely go to her grave second guessing the decision.

“What do we do about Elinor?” Bridger asked into the thick silence that followed.

Cran looked at Pyrondi, “Did you know about her being…?”

Pyrondi bobbed her head, “He told me, right before. He implied that the mutineers and saboteurs wouldn’t get what they wanted, and they’d come for her.”

“There is also something you should know about the baby.” Bridger said hesitantly.

The two Imperials looked at him, their brows furrowed.

“What?”

“She’s Force sensitive.”

Cran swore. Pyrondi’s eyes widened.

“Does Thrawn know?” Pyrondi demanded.

The young man nodded. Cran shook his head in disbelief, “One more thing for the Admiral to deal with.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Pyrondi wrinkled her nose at the Major

“We haven’t exactly had great luck with Jedi, Crissa!” Cran growled motioning to Ezra; his subtly lacking.

“The baby doesn’t have to grow up to be a Jedi. Elinor’s Force sensitive and didn’t want to use her abilities because she was intimidated by them.” Bridger explained matter-of-factly.

Cran and Pyrondi gaped at him in disbelief. It didn’t surprise Ezra that Elinor had kept her secret. What _did_ surprise him was that Thrawn had kept it.

“She’s what, now?” Cran asked carefully, puckering his lips slightly.

“Elinor is Force sensitive too, but she’s scared of it. And yes, Thrawn knows that too.”

“So. We have a Force sensitive woman with her Force sensitive half human-half Chiss baby on the way, on a planet that doesn’t know anything about alien life. There was a mutiny aboard the ship that brought said alien life here and the local authorities are apparently wanting to know _all_ about it. We don’t know anything about the status of our CO _or_ our ship _and_ we don’t have the resources to find out.” Cran chuckled bitterly. “Did I summarize that adequately?”

Pyrondi ignored the recap. “Why not let Elinor know we’re here?”

There was a pause.

“Thrawn never said _not_ to let her know.” Cran rumbled and Ezra shrugged.

“Fine. Tomorrow we let her know. Discretely. We don’t want to tip off the FDI or FBI or whatever they’re called.”

“Is that the guy in the car?” Bridger asked suddenly interested.

“I think so, why?” Pyrondi looked over at him wrinkling her nose as she did.

Both he and Cran needed to bathe. They smelled terrible.

“He has anger management issues.”

 

The next day she left with one of her friends. Cran remembered him as being the loudest and crudest of her acquaintances and he had a momentary flash of concern over her wellbeing with him, but the Jedi assured him, she would be fine. Her friends on the planet were apparently good people, despite their oddities. Her “shadow” left when she did and although they regretted not being able to watch the watcher, they needed the privacy.

The weather was cooler than their last surveillance of her home, so there were no open windows. Pyrondi got creative by climbing a tree to the second story bathroom window which was, fortunately, unlocked. She let both men in the front and they carefully picked their way silently into Elinor’s kitchen, Cran scanning as they went.

The ISB had created some very interesting listening devices over the years and had also created ways of finding such devices. They found no less than eight of them.

Ezra gathered them up, put them in a plastic bag, and to be a helpful guest, took the bag out to the trash dumpster. Thankfully the things only had an audio apparatus and not a visual function like the CT-10s and CR-10XMs Cran and company had used previously. Still, whoever was shadowing Elinor Savona knew everything that was being said inside her home.

The trio made their way upstairs to await her arrival home, unsure if her friends would also come in with her as they had the last few outings.

Finally, after much anxious waiting the front door opened.

 

“Ya know one of those looked like a hand, like it was giving a high five or something,” Rick continued discussing his observations from Dr. Phillips office, “I wonder what it would look like in the un-erect state? Maybe a thumbs up or something - like way to go!”

She had resolved to be closed mouthed during the drive home, but this elicited a string of uncontrolled giggles. Of course, the prospect of eating whole sticks of Land O’ Lakes was very unappealing so perhaps debating oddly shaped alien genitals was just what she needed to take her mind off things.

Another outpouring of laughter caused Rick to look over at her in concern.

“It’s the hormones.” She cleared her throat but continued to grin.

“Yuh huh, I noticed you were pretty giggly about Bob’s sex drive.” Rick smirked

“About who’s – oh. Well, Claire seems like the jealous type.” Elinor was laughing again, “I think there’s something wrong with me!”

“Uh yeah _duh_. You’re pregnant!” Rick rolled his eyes.

She burst into hysterical laughter.

“Noooooo! Why am I laughing? It’s…not…funny!” she could barely speak from laughing so hard. She was holding her belly and tears were rolling down her flushed cheeks.

“Hell, if I know. This is my cue to leave. I think…” Rick looked sheepishly at her

“Ok.” She snorted covering her face with both of her hands in embarrassment, “Thanks for taking me, Rick.”

“No problem. I hope it helped at least a little. Sorry for all the weirdness but at least you have a fall back plan.”

This helped ground her and she had to admit she did feel better about the prospect of giving birth to a half human, half alien baby. Now she needed to figure out how to take care of her baby and keep her safe.

_One step at a time._

“It did help. Thanks Rick.” She smiled at him. He gave her a hug and told her he’d call to check up on her tomorrow as she closed the door.

Sighing she made her way to the kitchen to grab a glass of water when the doorbell rang. She laughed.

Rick probably forgot to tell her something or she left something in his car. She walked briskly to the door, opened it with a smile and without thinking.

The smile fell quickly, and she silently berated herself for being so thoughtless. Standing in her door frame looking monstrously intimidating and angry was Agent Douglas Whittland.

She swallowed and attempted the smile again but could tell it likely looked pinched, “Agent Whittland, what can I do for you?”

“I want you to answer my questions, Dr. Savona.” He said icily.

“I’ve already done so.”

He looked at her and his eyes shifted further down to her protruding middle. Instinctively she shrank back, and he used that opportunity to move closer.

“This time I want you to answer them truthfully.” Whittland growled softly

“I don’t think I like what you’re implying.” Elinor shifted slightly to the left away from his leaning form and straightened to her full height. She was not going to be intimidated by “Mr. Potato Head.”

He reached out quickly and grabbed her wrist - the one with her bracelet and jerked her slightly, “I know you know about the Chimaera. I know you know who Thrawn is,” his eyes traveled down the length of her again, resting on her pregnant middle, “In fact I bet you know him very well.”

“You. Let. Me. Go.” Elinor ground out through clenched teeth.

She felt his fingers move against her bracelet and his eyes darted to it, “That’s an interesting piece of jewelry, Dr. Savona. Where did you get it?”

Elinor wrenched her hand away from him and stepped back, “Family heirloom,” she snarled, “Now, unless you have a warrant, you’ll leave here, and you won’t come back, or I’ll have your ass handed to you for assault and harassment.”

He smirked evilly at her, “I’ll be back. We’ll talk more then.”

She slammed the door in his face and felt a wave a nausea hit her so quickly she had to run to the bathroom.

After laying on the floor next to the toilet for a few minutes she got up and walked back out to the kitchen to continue where she left off and started pouring herself some water when she heard the thump upstairs.

She put the glass of water down and grabbed the heaviest skillet she had hanging over the kitchen island.

If that bastard Whittland, thought he could scare her, he had another thing coming.

Carefully she leaned out of the doorway and tiptoed to the corner where the living room and the hallway met. Elinor took a deep breath and peered out from around the corner – and screamed in surprise as she came face to chest with someone. She dropped the skillet on the man’s foot and started to run back to the kitchen to grab a knife and the phone, when a familiar voice called her name.

“Elinor, wait!”

_Pyrondi!?_

She skidded to a stop and turned, eyes wild.

“Crissa? Crissa! Oh Crissa!” She ran to her friend and hugged her. By the time she realized the “intruder” was Major Thae Cran and behind him was Ezra Bridger she was sobbing uncontrollably.

“How? Why? Where?” She breathlessly started and stopped asking question after question, refusing to release her hold on Pyrondi, when she finally did, she grabbed Cran and held on to him sobbing on his shoulder. He patted her arm gently, saying something reassuring. When she had made a mess of the Major’s shoulder she moved on to Ezra.

“Ezra, how? How? I don’t understand.” Elinor gasped.

“Shhhh, Elinor. It’s ok.” He soothed, “We’re here to help.”

“Thrawn!?” She wailed, “Where’s Thrawn? Is he alright? I’ve had terrible dreams! Please tell me he’s ok!”

Pyrondi and Cran exchanged a look which sent her into fresh hysterics.

“What happened?”

“There was a mutiny.” Pyrondi said quietly.

“NO!” she gasped, “No! He’s alive though?”

“We don’t know.” Cran shook his head.

“Tell me everything!!”

And so, they did.

 

“So why is the FBI interested in the Chimaera?” Elinor asked.

The question was met with blank stares.

“We were hoping you could tell us and maybe offer an explanation as to why we found eight Imperial listening devices in your townhouse when we got here this morning.” Cran arched an eyebrow at her.

“Imperial’s supposedly unpack my things after I got back, so maybe they were installed when I returned from the Chimaera.” Elinor looked at Pyrondi

“That was well before the mutiny.” Pyrondi scowled.

“Bastards, planned it.” Cran hissed.

There was a long silence.

“Why don’t I just ask the FBI what they have?” Elinor shrugged.

_Simplest solution, right Elinor?_

More silence.

“I have one of the agent’s contact information, I can call him and ask him to meet. Offer him some useless information and then ask him what he has.” She offered, becoming increasingly confident.

“It’s not the one that was here earlier, is it?” Pyrondi asked menacingly,” Because if you think you’re going anywhere with him -”

“No! No, his partner Caglioni. He’s much more level-headed.” She clarified.

Cran grunted, “I don’t like it,” but to everyone’s surprise he turned to Ezra, “What do you think?”

Ezra looked taken aback as well, “I think we should let her try. The trick will be what kind of information do we want to feed him to get him to open up to her.”

“Why don’t we tell him about Klary?” Pyrondi suggested.

Elinor was squinting, and she looked up at Ezra sharply as if something dawned on her suddenly, “No.”

“Why not?”

“It’s not good enough. We’ll give him what he wants. He wants to hear about Thrawn. I’ll tell him about Thrawn…and Klary too.” Elinor smiled devilishly.

 

She was dressed in a form fitting black sweater dress and wore an artisan neckless made from small pieces of screws, bolts and washers. Her dress hugged her pregnant frame and the neckless was displayed prominently; Matthew Caglioni found it quite flattering on her. It was obvious that the pregnancy was difficult for Elinor Savona; she was much thinner and weaker looking than the pictures of her in her file.

Regardless, she was an attractive woman and Caglioni didn’t mind the idea of getting to know her better. He was pleasantly surprised when she called him asking to meet, saying she happened to remember something about her work over the summer that may be of interest to him.

“Agent Caglioni.” She smiled at him

“Dr. Savona.” He smiled back.

“I apologize for the sudden call, but I was going through some old notes and something clicked.”

“Oh?” he arched his eye brow in question.

“You asked about someone named Thrawn.” She leaned forward

“Yes.”

“There was a woman on the base. She was only there for a little while. I had limited dealings with her, but something happened one day. There had been some sort of lockdown in one section of the base and a bunch of people were escorted off site. Rumor was she was the instigator and I think her last name was Thrawn.” Elinor whispered the last bit conspiratorially, “The joke on base was that she tried to have a mutiny and it didn’t go over well.”

She shrugged noncommittally

“I was just a civilian, so I wasn’t allowed into that section and no one really talked to me much about that type of thing. All I heard were rumors.”

Caglioni listened intently, “Could you describe her?”

Elinor nodded slowly, “Dark hair, shoulder length, blue eyes. About my height and build, Maybe mid to late thirties.”

He wrote her observations down in a notepad, complimenting her as he did so, “That’s excellent, Dr. Savona. Thank you.”

“Agent Caglioni, I have to say I’ve been thinking about what you said -my work possibly being used to support terrorism. I’m skeptical and wondering what your basis for that is. I’ve never considered myself blindly idealistic but…can you offer me at least some reassurances?” Her voice was plaintive and pleading.

“There is a limit to what I can say Dr. Savona since it is an open investigation but…I can tell you we believe this Thrawn person was looking for someone to fix something – possibly a weapon.”

“What makes you think it was a weapon?”

“The overall language of the communication intercepts we were able to get implied it.”

“You said ‘fix’. That implies that whatever it was, had been established.” She looked confused

“Yes. We aren’t too certain of that. The communication intercepts could be coded to make it seem that way.”

“Don’t you people have spies to find out if someone had something broken down?” She giggled playfully

He smirked, “No ma’am it doesn’t really work like that.”

“How did you get this communication anyway?” she shook her head in confusion

“A civilian contractor like yourself.”

She looked at him in wide-eyed amazement, “I thought I was the only one.”

“He wasn’t stationed at your base, I don’t think.” He clarified.

“Really?” She seemed suspicious now.

“No.”

“By any chance, was he a Russian scientist?” She asked absently, “I ask because I thought I heard about a Russian being there at one point.”

“Hmm. No don’t think so.”

“Interesting.” She mused, “If you happen to remember his name it might ring some bells for me.”

“Oh, George Harding I think.” he offered watching her closely.

Savona shook her head slowly, “Sorry, no bells.”

“Hm.” He sighed, “Well I appreciate your help in all of this Dr. Savona and I’d like to apologize for my partner again.”

She smiled beautifully, “It’s ok, we can’t all be Mr. or Ms. Personality.”

He smiled ruefully, “Under normal circumstances, I’d buy you a drink but…” he pointed at her swollen mid-section.

She laughed.

“That’s ok. I’ll take a Diet Coke, though if that’s ok?” she smiled gently.

She was delightful. Smart. Witty. And Caglioni was just about ready to ask if he could see her again when his phone rang. It was Doug.

“Ugh, I should take this.”

“That’s quite alright Agent Caglioni, I understand. I appreciate the Diet Coke.”

“Let me know if you think of anything else Dr. Savona.”

“Of course, Good night.”

She hurried off and he answered the call.

“Yeah, Doug. What’s going on?”

“Are you still with that bitch, Savona?” Doug barked.

Caglioni frowned, “No, why?”

“I think she’s lying. I’m getting a warrant to search her townhouse.”

“Doug, we don’t have probable cause!” Caglioni pinched the bridge of his nose.

“The hell we do, Matt! I’ll gunna get that lying bitch!”

The younger man opened his mouth to object, but the line was already dead.

 

Ellie walked quickly out of the restaurant and slid nonchalantly into the back seat of the rental car. Pyrondi took off as soon as she was in.

“Did you get it?” she asked hopefully.

Elinor saw her motion with her head to the front passenger seat. “The synch is good. The data pad says he got a call from Whittland as you were leaving.”

She nodded distractedly. Maybe Pyrondi knew about Harding.

“Crissa, was I the only one on the Chimaera?”

“The only one from the planet?” Pyrondi’s eyes narrowed in question

She nodded at her in the rear view.

“Other than...Bolotov, yes.” She looked up at her friend, “Why do you ask?”

“Because Caglioni said that a civilian had provided communications intercepts on fixing the Chimaera. His name was George Harding.”

Pyrondi scrunched up her face in confusion and shrugged, “Unless it’s something Axon, Rogyn or the Russians cooked up, I have no idea.”

Elinor nodded again this time more to herself. She felt the baby kick and she rubbed her belly in an effort to sooth her.

She would have to investigate George Harding. If he really was an artifact of Axon’s play for power, which was very likely, no further action was really warranted. They just needed to ride out the storm…but if he was an alias of an operative sent down by Klary then she needed to find him and neutralize him in some way.

Elinor knew she was entering into a dangerous game with high stakes, but she had no other choice. She needed to find Thrawn and provide their daughter security. They would _never_ have that if Klary had the Chimaera, she would always be looking over her shoulder…and never knowing what happened to the man she loved would slowly kill her, regardless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello,
> 
> First of all, I need to offer apologies. I don't think I've properly said "thank you, thank you, thank you!" for what seems to me to be overwhelming support for this endeavor. Thank you for your kind words. Your praise is most appreciated. I'm trying to let it not go to my head, ergo I continue to drink Diet Ginger Ale. 
> 
> ((gagging noises behind the scenes)) I'm good. Humble and keepin' it real.
> 
> Thank you again!
> 
> Next chapter will be up momentarily and will have a bit more Thrawn. He's kinda hurtin'


	32. Chameleon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning:  
> Implied Torture
> 
> In This Chapter:
> 
> Ill-Gotten Gains: The Imperials go shopping  
> Elinor looks into George Harding  
> Ezra likes to window shop  
> Doug Whittland is a simple man  
> Dr. Savona is bored and restless  
> When Harding Met Klary  
> George Harding's Identity crisis?  
> Ripples  
> Broken  
> A rough idea.

 

Fink called early the next morning to check on her, and Elinor managed to dissuade him from stopping by, by telling him she was going through a terrible bout of morning sickness. He gallantly offered to send Allen over, but she deflected that as well – pregnant ladies needed rest, after all.

Ezra, Cran and Pyrondi went to scout out “necessary resources.” Based on the looks they were giving each other, she opted not to get involved with that but offered much of the signing bonus she received for her work on “Project Chimaera”.

“Where did you get so much money anyways?” Elinor had asked Pyrondi when the topic of funds came up, “I assume the Empire doesn’t deal in Earth currency.”

“No, we don’t.” She said vaguely

“Okaaay?” Ellie arched an eyebrow and cocked her head to the side.

“It’s best you not know.” Pyrondi pursed her lips

Her mouth fell open, “Crissa! What. Did. You. Do?”

The other woman shrugged noncommittally, “Just some information retrieval from one of those satellites in orbit. Nothing outlandish.”

“I’ve been paying my electric bill with ILL-GOTTEN GAINS?” Elinor shrieked so loud the baby kicked in alarm.

“Huh, told her about your credit cards, did you?” Cran walked in.

“Yep.” Pyrondi nodded glumly.

“It doesn’t matter much anymore because Klary turned off the fountain of money.”

“Ahem, I was paid pretty well for my services.” Ellie shot the two Imperials a sour look.

“Huh, how much?” Pyrondi joked.

“How much do you need?” she shot back.

Cran and Pyrondi looked at each other; both smiling smugly.

 

Ezra and the Imperials went shopping while Ellie did some research on George Harding.

There were several George Hardings in the Uptown area but only one seemed to stand out to her. George E. Harding of Warren Heights a very affluent section of town – he lived in one of the new high rises on 3rd Street – The Vogue Luxury Condominiums. He had degrees in structural and industrial engineering from Princeton. He was 42 years old and had worked briefly for GRF Consolidations Group before moving to the Uptown area. As to his current employer, Elinor could not find one.

Something didn’t seem right and the hair on the back of her neck stood on end. This man was a ghost. Even Elinor could Google herself and come up with more information and she didn’t even have a Facebook or Twitter account.

No.

Something was off.

 

The Jedi walked by the jewelry store window for the third time. This time Cran couldn’t let it slide.

“Listen kid, I don’t think Pyrondi is interested.” Cran whispered.

“Wha -? No. No. I’m not looking for that reason!” the boy actually looked embarrassed which made the Major chuckle.

“Aww, self-indulgence then? Great. Yellow is definitely your color.” Cran smirked.

Bridger shrugged, and the Imperial gave him a sideways look.

He handed him the stack of small rectangular papers that Pyrondi had given him, “Go on, then.” He rumbled.

Ezra looked at the monetary notes and then up at Cran, “Are you sure?”

“No. Take it before I change my mind.”

 

Doug Whittland was a simple man.

His ex-wives disagreed - all four of them. That was the only thing they really had in common – they all agreed he was “complicated”; a pleasant-sounding euphemism for _asshole_. Of course, if they happen to become brave and come right out and say that, they would find it difficult to talk afterward.

No, Doug Whittland was a simple man. He liked woman, he liked beer and he liked to gamble.

He liked to gamble _a lot_.

It was through his gambling that he found himself in desperate need. The desire to go back to the table to play one more hand was stronger than his desire to eat food and sleep in a bed at night.

Serafina, his last wife, insisted he consult with someone. He justly told her to mind her own God damn business, but it was too late. A simple man can get into complicated troubles, which is when he met Yuri Gornovek.

Yuri was good to him. Yuri wasn’t complicated.

Yuri had only one rule.

Doug would keep the FBI off his back and Doug could continue with his simple life at Yuri’s expense (within reason). It had worked out beautifully for years. Doug Whittland had thrived. He had his “career” at the Bureau and his uncomplicated life, thanks to Yuri Gornovek…that is until Gornovek was killed.

Supposedly a freak thunderstorm had brought the plane down, but Whittland knew better…The alien and that woman had destroyed his simple life. His new benefactor, although not as generous as Yuri understood how upset he’d been over the loss.

The alien was taken care of but the woman…she was a complication that he’d do away with because after all, Doug Whittland was a simple man and he didn’t like it when things got complicated.

 

The next few days were hell.

Pyrondi made “contingency plans”, took stock of resources and mapped out evacuation routes in the event of some form of attack and Cran kept an eye out for Agent Whittland. Ezra became reclusive, choosing to spend his time in Elinor’s garage working on something. When she asked if she could help – sitting around being pregnant wasn’t exactly exciting and intellectually stimulating – he hastily hid his work and politely refused her assistance.

Slowly she would go mad if she didn’t do something. The Chimaera was in orbit above her. Thrawn was likely onboard and although Pyrondi and Cran didn’t say it, Elinor could imagine the methods Klary would use against him to get access to the ship; likely torture.

And here she was eating butter.

 

George Harding found it thrilling to be in a space-bound vessel. It would be the first of many trips he was sure of it, regardless he wanted to reflect on the experience in comfort and solitude but one of the Imperials kept interrupting his contemplation. Lieutenant Rhyns was an arrogant young man. Harding almost chucked several times during his tirade on being stranded _here_. He reminded Harding of how he himself, had been perceived by others in the past.

_It’s only arrogance if you can’t show your worth_.

And he was certain Rhyns wouldn’t be able to show anything to anyone.

The shuttle landing in the hanger bay of the Imperial Star Destroyer was bumpier than Harding was anticipating. The pilot had to land without aid of the tractor beam since it had been sabotaged by the Grand Admiral before his capture. Thankfully Bastilis was able to save the alien. The stormtroopers Klary recruited were too trigger happy and Thrawn had been in bad shape, but now…

Now, the prize was patched up and ready for the game.

Harding smiled.

He exited the shuttle and was greeted by Klary who looked flustered.

“Hello, Commander. It’s so good to finally meet you in person!” Harding grinned at her

“Likewise, Mr. Harding.” She smiled stiffly.

He would not be played for an ignorant primitive.

“Is something wrong Commander?”

“Nothing that we can’t handle, Mr. Harding.” She shot him an irritated look

“May I remind you Commander, that I am helping you in your endeavor. I am here at your request.” He continued to smile pleasantly but put an edge to his voice.

She paused, “Of course. My apologies. We’ve just been finding it difficult to extract information from... _him_.”

“As I told you, you would.”

“Yes.” She growled, “And I believe you are here to help with that?”

“I am.” George Harding’s voice was back to being completely friendly again.

 

The cell block was deserted except for a few stormtroopers, very few aboard the Chimaera knew that Thrawn was still aboard. An announcement was made to the 16,506 crew members remaining on the ship that Captain Pellaeon had aided the Grand Admiral in abandoning his post. For that the Captain and the bridge officers on duty at the time were being held in custody. The whereabouts of the Grand Admiral were unknown. This had left the crew demoralized – after all this time, Thrawn finally gave up on them? And Pellaeon helped him do it?

No one had any interest in going down to the detention level to discuss it with him. Few people cared. But if more did, and more tried to go down to find the Captain, they would indeed, find him but not in the most heavily guarded cell.

No, that one was reserved for someone else.

That one was for Grand Admiral Thrawn.

The two stormtroopers guarding it stepped aside to let Klary in, Harding following her. She entered her code cylinder into the door and it slide open.

The Chiss was impressive, tall, lean but muscular. He was in standard prison garb and shackled to the cot. He looked up, expressionless and assessed Klary and the newcomer.

The ripples were extremely subtle with Thrawn – an interesting challenge.

“Commander Klary.” He greeted her with a nod, his voice suave and confident.

Harding smiled. Klary was out of her league with the Grand Admiral. This wasn’t an interrogation for him, it was torture for her.

“Thrawn.” She nodded, “I’d like to introduce my associate Mr. –“

“Tassi.” Thrawn finished for her.

Harding laughed, “I’m actually going by George Harding now. Martin Tassi has outlived his usefulness thanks to you and Dr. Savona.”

Thrawn nodded gravely.

“Commander, would you mind leaving us for a bit, I’d like to give the Grand Admiral an update on a mutual friend.” Harding studied the Chiss as he spoke.

From the corner of his eye he saw Klary open her mouth to argue but he moved his hand in a slight cutting gesture. She decided the better part of valor would be to let him win this one and grunted, turning to leave.

“Oh, and Commander have Dr. Bastilis at the ready. The Grand Admiral will want to talk to a _professional_ when we’re done.”

Klary didn’t say anything but nodded, shooting him a questioning, skeptical look.

As the door closed behind the Commander, Harding’s smile was almost kind, “Ah, I’ve been looking forward to meeting you for quite some time, Grand Admiral.”

“I am sorry to disappoint you.”

“Nonsense!” Harding looked shocked, “Modesty doesn’t suit you Admiral. I’ve studied your career. You’re unique; a genius. A cunning warrior. But also, a man of honor. A strange combination of characteristics in any universe – you’re a man of honor, which is why when you tell me how to unlock the Chimaera, you’ll be speaking the truth.”

“An interesting assumption.”

“Oh, I’m pretty sure you’ll agree with me after I tell you the big news.” Harding’s smile was friendly.

Thrawn arched an eyebrow.

“Elinor Savona is pregnant with your child. A girl.” He watched as the Chiss remained expressionless.

Harding felt the oh-so-slight ripple – an acknowledgement.

_Yes._

Harding stopped and grinned, “You dog you! And you didn’t know before you left her, did you.” He tutted.

Another ripple – this one a little bigger – another acknowledgement.

He continued, “I’m happy to report that Dr. Savona is healthy…well, at least for now. Apparently, the pregnancy is a bit draining on her.”

A little bigger – this one was different though, it was an admission but twisted with something darker – an acknowledgement of fear. Harding started to pull at the feeling.

_Fascinating._

“I didn’t come empty handed I hope you know.”

The Chiss wasn’t responding like humans did, his emotions were so muted; hidden far underneath the surface. His outer features betrayed nothing.

Harding had discovered his gifts when he was just a boy and had practiced his techniques. First on women – especially in college. Not only could he feel their emotions and manipulate them, he could predict them. He could tell when their barriers would break down and took full advantage of their crumbling walls by offering them a sympathetic ear. He would predict the subsequent hurt from the collapse of the short-lived “relationship” and revel in the refinement of his abilities. Harding would see people’s emotions as _ripples_ in an empty plane – he could smooth them or disturb them as he saw fit. His gifts served him well in the corporate world where he could manipulate and warp situations to his liking.

Harding thought of himself as a warrior and finally he might just have found a worthy opponent.

He produced a small piece of thin paper from his pocket and made a point of gazing at it while he continued, “She has dreams, you know.”

Another response – ah, and it was beautiful – like a tuning fork – Middle C.

…Another slight tug at the subtle alien emotion….

He turned the slip of paper around for Thrawn to see.

The Imperial’s reaction was like a sonic blast. It even registered in his body language. His jaw clenched. Harding could only grin.

“Bravo Grand Admiral. Well done.” He chuckled, “I can’t tell if she looks like her mother. What do you think?

Thrawn’s eyes flicked up from the ultrasound picture to Harding, “What do you want?” he asked evenly.

He smiled kindly, “I want the Chimaera.”

“And then you will dispose of me.” It was not a question.

Harding snorted, “Perhaps. Perhaps not. That depends on you.”

Thrawn studied him but Harding decided to press his advantage.

“I have something else for you.” He beamed.

He pulled a thin cylinder from his jacket pocket and pressed a small button.

An audio recording – Elinor Savona’s voice could clearly be heard, tired and strained.

“A sample of one of her many dreams,” Harding whispered to clarify as Thrawn’s brow furrowed.

The woman’s voice murmured something unintelligible, then suddenly a clearer panicked scream.

“NO! No…Please. Wait. Thrawn. Please…Don’t leave...I’m sorry. Thrawn. NO!” There was another wail. It was of complete despair. She had woken up and found that her lover was not there and was sobbing uncontrollably, chanting his name over and over again, as if doing so would bring him to her.

The Chiss was slowly breaking.

It was beautiful.

…He continued to tug and push at the ripple slowly rising…

Harding turned the recording off, “She goes on like that for several minutes, it’s really quite boring.” He sighed.

Thrawn’s eyes burned a deep red.

“So…let’s recap, shall we? You knocked her up,” he sneered down at the alien, “you left her with a parasitic blob growing inside her and she still cries her eyes out over you. My my my, you are a man of honor.”

The Grand Admiral let out a barely audible hiss.

Harding laughed and with one final push on the alien’s emotions….

“You know, I do feel sorry for her. Perhaps after she miscarries and realizes what an _honorable_ man you are, she’ll give _me_ another chance.”

Thrawn lunged at him growling, his large blue hands clawing at the air where his throat had been. He had, of course, seen it coming and stepped back just out of reach. The chains holding the Chiss were stretched taut and digging into his flesh.

“Ah, calm yourself Admiral, you’re giving me a headache.” Harding smirked, “Now, give me the Chimaera and I’ll give you Elinor Savona. I think that’s a fair trade. I suppose you want to think on it, so to help you Dr. Bastilis will come in and assist you. I hear he’s _very_ good at that.”

Thrawn spat something vicious sounding in a language Harding assumed was his own.

“It was nice to meet you, Grand Admiral. I’ll give Elinor your best.” He laughed as he turned and walked out of the cell leaving not a ripple, not even waves, but a roiling sea of guilt, fear and rage.

 

Eighteen hours later Klary told him the news, Bastilis finally broke him. Between the drugs, bodily trauma and Harding’s form of psychological torture, Thrawn gave them the twenty-four-digit code to unlock the navigation system. The ship’s computer accepted it, but then the navigation console requested a key code.

Thrawn had told the truth and he gave them exactly what they wanted. But nothing more.

 

Harding stood before the Chiss again, this time the Grand Admiral was bowed, with purple and black bruises dotting his skin.

“What haven’t you told us Admiral? What is the missing key code?” Harding asked.

“I do not know.” Thrawn wilted.

Harding could feel it. He really didn’t know what the code was, or at least he didn’t believe that he knew…but he knew how to find it.

“Very well.” He said softly and strode out of the cell.

Let the alien believe he bought himself some time. Let him believe he had won a small victory – that would make his defeat that much more crushing in the end. Besides, Harding had a rough idea where it was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi,
> 
> So. I like to recycle. I thought Tassi was such an @sshole and I needed another one of those for this story...well (shrug) he ain't dead soooo, why not?
> 
> Also this elusive key code, I envision being something like an identification key - a random number generated access code that changes every, say hour or so...naturally the Grand Admiral doesn't KNOW the number (it's randomly generated!) BUT I bet that sneaky bastard knows where the key is...hmmm
> 
> After a few more chapters things start getting really face paced, so much so I may just give up and post the whole silly thing. If consumed in chunks it's likely to give you a headache.
> 
> I know it gave me one! LOL
> 
> Thank you all! Have a good night!


	33. Warrant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings:  
> None
> 
> In This Chapter:  
> The Imperials go out while Ellie's entourage visits.  
> Agent Whittland's search warrant  
> The 76th precinct (the contingency plan)  
> Ezra will try to help  
> Get off the highway!

 

It had been a week since they had settled into a pattern. The two Imperials and Ezra would evacuate her townhouse before her entourage would come over to check on her, socialize and bring her an ever-increasing amount of habanero wings and the spicy blend Tabasco sauce. She had gotten to the point where she was drinking the stuff from the bottle; the guys referred to it as her “sippy cup.”

She was up to four dozen wings and she found herself going to the kitchen to microwave herself a stick of butter. She was drinking that too, but still losing weight at an alarming rate. The guys noticed.

“This is not the time to go on a diet, girlfriend!” Fink admonished her.

“I’m aware.” She gave him a withering look as she sipped her butter.

“What’s the doctor say?” Tate asked looking concerned.

“He says I need to eat butter.”

“Wait… _he_? I thought Dr. Nuri was a woman?” Fink gave her a strange look.

“Dr. Nuri _is_ a woman but I’m seeking a second opinion.”

“Don’t you mean a _third_ opinion?” Fink raised his eyebrows.

“Damn, Savona you change doctors like I change underwear.” Rick joked.

“Once every two weeks? Gross.” Ellie wrinkled her nose at him with a smile.

“The ladies like it. Enhances the manliness.” Rick wiggled his eyebrows.

“Careful Rick, Elinor only just stopped throwing up.” Mark rolled his eyes.

She was really starting to love the camaraderie with her entourage. Why did she ever try to isolate herself – she regretted the time she lost with them while she still worked at TES because she was too busy or scared to have people get close.

What had changed?

_Thrawn._

She smiled softly.

The doorbell rang.

“You expecting someone?” Allen asked.

“No, everyone I know is here.” Elinor shrugged as she made her way to the front. Whoever it was started pounding on the door. “I’m coming!” She yelled.

She opened the door and inhaled sharply. Doug Whittland pushed past her into the foyer.

She tried to block him, “What the hell are you doing!?”

He grabbed her wrist roughly.

“I have a warrant, this time. Interfere and I’ll have you arrested for impeding a federal investigation.”

“Hey! Back off man!” Mark yelled.

“Get your hands off her! She’s pregnant!” Fink cried in outrage.

The others were edging closer, but the tense exchange was interrupted by several other FBI investigators climbing the front step. Whittland slowly let go of Elinor’s wrist and she pulled away sharply, glaring at him.

The other agents fanned out immediately as Fink, Allen, Rick, Mark and Tate surrounded her protectively each giving Whittland an ugly look.

“Ellie, what’s going on?”

“You need a lawyer!”

“Who the hell is that guy, he has no business grabbing you like that!”

“We need to get a look at that warrant!”

“Guys, guys, guys! Hold up!” She knew she looked panicked and they all stopped, wide-eyed waiting for her to continue.

“It’s because of what happened this summer…the project I worked on. They think it’s being used by someone that shouldn’t be using it.” She whispered, “And I probably just told you too much. So - ”

Just then Whittland rounded the corner looking like a thunder cloud. The group of men tighten around her.

“Dr. Savona, I’m gunna give you one last chance to come clean.” He growled.

Elinor stepped forward away from her circle of friends, “I’ve already told you Agent Whittland, I don’t know anything.”

“Hmmm. The Chimaera?”

She shook her head.

“Thrawn?”

“I don’t know him.”

“ _Him_ , huh? That’s interesting. You told Caglioni, Thrawn was a woman.”

She swore internally.

“And you implied Thrawn was a man. I really don’t know what you want from me, Agent Whittland.” Elinor snapped, her face reddening.

One of the other agents, saved her though…or so she thought.

“Sir?”

“What?” Whittland barked at the man.

The other man handed him something and Elinor’s stomach dropped, her baby kicked, and she tried her best to keep her face neutral.

In Whittland’s hand was the arm band Pyrondi had given her when she left the ship. The arm band with an embroidered image in red, black and gold of a Chimaera.

“Don’t know nothin’ ‘bout the Chimaera, huh?” Whittland mocked as he handed it back to the other agent.

“Elinor Savona, I am placing you under arrest for impeding a federal investigation and lying to a federal agent, you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you –“

There were interjections of “What?”, “Wait a minute” and “No!” from her friends.

“ – in a court of law. You have the right to speak to an attorney and to have an attorney present during any questioning. If you cannot –“

“Ellie, we’ll get you a lawyer!” Fink screamed as Whittland pulled her arms back behind her causing her pregnant belly to jut out even further.

“-afford a lawyer, one will be provided to you at government expense. Have you –“

“Hey man! Seriously do you have to cuff her, she’s pregnant, it’s not like she’s going to run away!” Rick called angrily.

“-heard and understood these rights?”

“I have.” Elinor said as calmly as she could.

“Good.” He said as he locked the cuffs into place, tightening them. He leaned in to whisper in her ear, making her cringe. “I told you, I’d get you.”

She remained silent, staring straight ahead

He led her out of her home, guiding her by her right shoulder, her friends following closely behind. There was a police car parked across the street and two officers exited the vehicle upon the group’s appearance. Ellie caught her breath.

 

The black and whites marched up to Whittland. The lead officer, an older man was former military by the way he carried himself, his partner a young woman was probably fresh out of the Academy. They made their way across the street to Whittland who was being followed by Savona’s band of merry men.

“Hey, you Agent Whittland?” the man asked.

“Yeah, why?”

“We got a call in – we’re supposed to transport your suspect to the 76th precinct for processing.”

“Processing? I only just arrested her! This is a federal case!” Whittland looked at him quizzically.

The officer shrugged, “Call it in if you want, but we’re doin’ you government boys a favor – she’s got local charges pending.”

“Oh?”

“Contempt of court on a disorderly conduct charge”

“Well…that’s something we didn’t find.” Whittland leaned in to sneer at Elinor.

“Only just happened two days ago.” The female officer bobbed her head.

Whittland laughed. “You’ve been a busy, girl,” he pushed her toward the two officers. “Fine, take her in and book her for the contempt and disorderly charges. We’ll be by to pick her up and take her in for arraignment.”

“Which magistrate? We’ll bring her to you.” The female officer smiled at him.

“My warrant’s signed by Hatfield.”

“Alright, we’ll get Cinderella to the ball” the first officer chuckled, “C’mon ma’am, why don’t you step into _our_ office, over here.”

“Thanks…oh hey, you guys work in the 76th?” Whittland asked.

“Yep.”

“What are yer names? I’ll put in a good word.”

“I’m Cran, this is Pyrondi.” the man pointed to himself and then to his partner.

“Cran and Pyrondi. Thanks.” Whittland gave them a wink.

“No, sir. _Thank you_.”

 

“Where the hell did you get a police car? And the uniforms!? Please tell me Ezra isn’t stuffed in the trunk!”

Cran and Pyrondi smirked at each other. Now, that was a fun thought since the Jedi had been extra annoying lately. They had heard about the execution of the search warrant from Caglioni’s synced communication device and thought it was time to put their own plan into action.

“It was one of my contingency plans,” Pyrondi explained. “I knew there was a chance the FBI would come calling again and they’d probably wouldn’t stop. Soooo, I took some _precautions_.”

“This is one hell of a precaution!” Elinor screeched, “Your dirty money at work, no doubt!”

“You weren’t complaining, when you paid your electric bill with it.” Cran grinned.

“I DIDN’T KNOW!”

“Hey, pipe down back there.” Pyrondi said shifting back into her “Officer Pyrondi” voice.

Cran laughed heartily while Ellie muttered in the back seat.

They were driving into the poorer section of town – the warehouse district, known for its plethora of abandon buildings; perfect for hiding illicit activities. A homeless man sat at a corner with a sign that read “Hungry please give all you can.”

Ellie’s heart ached.

_And you thought your situation was bad, Elinor._

To her mild surprise, Cran stopped the car and Pyrondi rolled down the window and whistled to the man. He got up and walked briskly to the police car and opened the back-passenger side door to slide in the seat next to her.

“Wha?”

The man pulled at his beard which fell away from his chin revealing a familiar face, “Let’s get these off, shall we?” Ezra motioned to the hand cuffs.

Cran had started driving again and Elinor turned to allow Ezra access to the restraints. “Ezra, what? Why?...How?”

“She’s only missing ‘when’, ‘where’ and ‘who’!” Pyrondi joked from the front seat.

Elinor felt the cuffs release and she hunched her shoulders in relief.

They had entered a storage complex and parked in front of the 100 block of garage-like storage units. Pyrondi got out of the police cruiser and unlocked units 102 and 103. Unit 102 was empty and Cran pulled the car into it. Unit 103 though, had a black Suburban with tinted windows.

“We’re getting you out of here.” Ezra looked at her solemnly

“I don’t think I have much of a choice.”

 

They drove north, at first taking little-known side streets and back roads. Once they left the city and entered the expanse of forested, mountains beyond, they got on the highway. It was minimally traveled, mostly by large trucks and so afforded them more speed and some, but not complete, anonymity. Cran drove and conversed with Pyrondi who sat in the front passenger seat.

Elinor and Ezra sat in the back. At first the silence was awkward.

Elinor felt there was an element of guilt in play given her unwillingness to embrace her Force powers. Ezra seemed accepting of her choice but after all that had happened and the dreams that haunted her every time she slipped into sleep, she wondered if she truly made the right decision. The Jedi could tell she was conflicted.

“You’re struggling with the dreams.” It was a statement.

“Yes.”

There was a pause.

“I can help you, but only if you want…I will not push you.”

She was silent for a long time.

She had learned long ago that people could not be fixed. Was she willing to look into the possibility that _somethings_ might be salvageable?

Didn’t she owe it to her daughter to try?

 Didn’t she owe it to herself to try again?

The baby’s twisting and kicking jarred her out of her thoughts.

“I – I think I’d like to learn how to help…Not just myself but others. My baby especially.”

“Then, you know about her?” Ezra lifted his eyebrows in mild surprise.

“That she’s like me and has these Force powers? Yes.” Elinor looked down at the dome of her belly, rubbing it where she had felt the life inside her move just moments ago.

Ezra nodded to himself, “I’ll try to help.”

 

A day later, they were still driving.

Cran and Pyrondi were commiserating over the world’s lack of a good nerf stake – grilled medium rare with Corellian spices and a good stiff ale – the stuff they brewed on Corulag was pretty good – no, no, Bothan lagers were the best.

Elinor and Ezra meditated in silence in the back.

The young Jedi had done his best to explain the ways and nature of the Force to her, but he feared he would never be as effective a teacher as Kanan was. Certainly not as knowledgeable. He pondered the implications of trying to train her when he himself was still learning.

Suddenly Elinor jerked, and her eyes snapped open as if she was startled by something.

“Get off the highway!” She snapped.

“What?” Cran looked at her in the rear-view mirror.

“Get off the highway – there’s an exit a mile away. Get off and park under the bridge. Quick.”

Cran glanced over at Pyrondi and then at Ezra and stepped on the gas. Elinor was clearly agitated looking out the window toward the sky and holding her pregnant belly.

“What’s wrong?” Pyrondi asked softly.

Elinor shook her head fearfully with wide-eyes like a caged animal – like she was too terrified to speak. Finally, Cran exited the road and was mildly surprised to see there was indeed a large bridge to the left of the ramp.

“Park under the bridge quick. Roll down a window and turn off the engine.” Elinor was hysterical now.

Pyrondi rolled down her window. Cran didn’t bother with the stop sign and raced to the bridge, seeking cover under the darkest part of the overpass. He turned off the car just as the unmistakable scream of Imperial TIE fighters could be heard flying overhead.

The two Imperials swore colorfully, and Ezra warily looked up to the sky through the tint of the car’s window. Elinor held onto her swollen mid-section and rocked back and forth, making pitiful noises in the back of her throat. The TIEs – two by the sound of it – swooped down low over the highway; their passing made the bridge above them tremble and groan. They circled around for another pass and for a moment there was a flash of fear - they knew their quarry was under the bridge - but, both fighters veered off suddenly following the road perpendicular to the highway, the road they were currently on.

They waited under the bridge for ten minutes after the TIEs had moved on, just to make sure. Finally, when they were convinced it was safe, Major Cran got back on the highway and continued on.

“The FBI isn’t the only one after you, now. Looks like Klary has finally decided to come calling.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi All,
> 
> I have bad news and worse news...  
> Bad news...I spilled Diet Coke on my keyboard so my editing needed editing. Blaahhh  
> Worse news....I am sooooo stuck on Part III. I'm so stuck in fact, I've resorted to listening to the Bee Gees... no offense to all you Disco junkies out there. Elinor and I share a deep love for all music genres - from the Big Band Era to...well, yeah you get it. In fact, it was probably me dancing to Earth Wind and Fire that caused the spill mentioned above.  
> Thank you again for your patience!


	34. The Power To Help

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning:  
> None
> 
> In This Chapter:
> 
> That feeling - and the need to survive  
> Plan? What plan?  
> Wake up to a lullaby   
> Bastilis is no joke  
> Leave no potato chip behind  
> That feeling is back - they need to go back  
> Feelings vs. Foresight   
> The woman with the braid staring into hyperspace  
> The metal cylinder

 

“The feeling you had when the TIEs came, what was it?” Ezra asked her when they’d been removed from the ordeal for about an hour and the baby had stopped kicking wildly.

Elinor paused.

It was like fear, but it felt cold and empty. It made her shake like her body could hardly contain the terror inside of her. Had it been the baby’s thrashing that caused such a rush of adrenaline?

There was something else though, it had been a burning sensation – stabbing and searing like hot tears running down her face, but it too had made her tremble.

_Anger._

“I was afraid they would find us and angry that…that _I_ have to run away.” Elinor whispered the last not wanting to seem ungrateful to the other passengers in the car who had risked so much to help her.

“How did it make you feel?”

She frowned, again remembering.

“I felt cold and hot at the same time and empty but full like I’d explode – but not in a good way. It was all at the same time! It was confusing, and it made me feel… _wrong_.”

“Yes.” Ezra nodded slowly.

“The Force is a power you can draw on. There is a light and a dark. What you experienced was dark.”

“Yes.” Elinor agreed “It definitely _felt_ dark.”

Ezra nodded slowly again, was silent for a moment, then asked, “Have you ever felt it before?”

Elinor thought for a moment.

The burning feeling she felt during the TIE fly-by wasn’t as potent as it had been _then_ , but it definitely stung the same way…she had felt it course through her; give her power, guide her. She swore he legs had never moved faster, she had never pushed herself forward harder, she had never pulled herself up when she fell so easily before...

All the while on fire, burning in a fit of rage.

“Yes, I’ve felt it before. I was running in a race. A man who…hurt me was running against me and it made me angry. _Really_ angry. It had helped me. Drove me. It was powerful…but it scared me.”

“A Jedi Master said once that anger, fear, aggression; the dark side are they.” Ezra stared off into space as if remembering something.

“Is there light?”

“Calmness and peace are the ways of the Jedi. We don’t use the Force out of anger or in fear. It’s not an instrument to gain power, it’s for understanding and defense.”

Elinor scowled remembering the power she felt during the race against Martin Tassi, “Would I have an advantage if I _did_ use it in anger?”

“No. Actually, the beings I’ve run into that used the dark side were always empty. The darkness had eaten away at them. There was nothing left but the anger and the fear. Whatever, or whoever they were before…was gone after they turned to the darkness.” Ezra said softly.

Elinor was pensive for some time. She could see how the burning rage would eat away at someone. She hoped for her baby’s sake she would never succumb to such a thing. But how could you stop yourself?

“Everyone gets angry – how am I supposed to _not_ ever get angry?” she looked alarmed and confused.

Ezra smiled slightly in reassurance, “Feeling is different than acting on the anger. Think about self-awareness. You know how I said the Force is used for knowledge – Jedi spend a lot of time reflecting on things.”

“ _Great_. Like I don’t have enough to think about.”

She didn’t want to think about it. Elinor never wanted to use it. Just the mere thought of feeling the burning cold again was enough to make her wish for a nothingness that could never exist for her, if she and her baby were to survive.

 

George Harding, formerly Martin Tassi stormed into the Grand Admiral’s office - the space Klary had taken up as her own. She regretted instantly telling the stormtroopers guarding the door to allow him entrance.

“Commander.” he greeted, not as warmly as when they first met. “I understand your pilots have not found the Imperial traitors that have stolen our _one_ good chance at claiming the Chimaera as ours?”

“They continue to search, Mr. Harding, but you’ll recall it was your man that handed that _one_ good chance over to the traitors.” Klary ground out.

“Of course, I didn’t brief my man on the ground about the threat because I was not _aware_ there was one or should I say _more than one_.” Harding snapped.

Klary shot up from her seat behind the desk, “I told you that we had someone loyal to Thrawn escape!”

“It wouldn’t have been a concern. However, you failed to mention there was someone already on the ground!”

“I didn’t think it would be an issue for someone with your skills,” The Imperial sneered. “Apparently I was wrong.”

Harding drew back slightly and then smiled thinly, dangerously.

“Careful, Commander. You do _not_ want first hand knowledge of my skills.”

Klary shivered noticeably and drew back but still maintained her fierce expression, “We can fix this,” she said evenly.

“I’m sure _you_ can.”

Klary blinked. She didn’t know how to fix it.

Harding sighed – the old adage would always apply – if you wanted something done right, you’d have to do it yourself. Thankfully his trained dog, Whittland had a few ideas of where she could end up and had used his talent of persuasion to ensure he would hear about Elinor Savona’s presence, should she show herself.

She was getting stronger though…

“But, our one good chance is sharpening her skills. She’s not as… _reluctant_ as she’s been in the past. I will likely have to intervene personally,” Harding stared absently into nothingness as he spoke. “Plus, there is the little matter of the child…”

“Yes, that.” Klary looked downright uncomfortable now.

“She will be malleable, Commander. It will take some time, but you should see results in two years – her gifts will get you back to your precious Empire.” Harding smiled.

“And during that time, you’ll have an Imperial Star Destroyer to play with and a planet to run.” Klary snorted.

“That is the plan, is it not?” he asked sardonically.

“It is indeed.”

…Or at least, that was the plan, he let her in on.

 

The potent drugs that had been absorbed into her body by half a dozen needles had combined into a cocktail to wreak havoc on several internal organs, deadening nerves in her arms and legs. Thankfully there would be no permanent damage - it wasn’t anything a _lengthy_ dip in a bacta tank couldn’t fix.

Lengthy.

Nine weeks lengthy, to be exact.

Medic Jenson, the sick bay staff, and to a lesser extent Doctor Bastilis agreed – it was time to fish her out and see if she would respond to ambient conditions. It had been two days.

Tabitha Yermentic stumbled upon awareness.

She had slowly come to, didn’t like the cold brightness around her and collapsed back into her comfortable warm darkness. Finally, a loud noise jolted her enough that she could no longer avoid cognizance. She winced and tried to turn her head toward the sound, unwilling to open her eyes due to the light. She felt warmth covering her and a soft humming – someone was humming – an old lullaby from Alderaan.

Yermentic tried to swallow but she couldn’t. She grunted in frustration and the lullaby stopped.

“Doctor Yermentic?” a young female voice – vaguely familiar asked.

_Yermentic…that was her!_

She grunted again.

“Hold on! I’ll get Doctor Bastilis!” the woman cried excitedly. There was a swish of clothing and the sound of feet walking briskly away while Yermentic tried to remember how to swallow so she could work enough moisture into her mouth to swear.

 

Bastilis was standing in Klary’s office looking as bored as ever, and once again the Commander wondered if the doctor had any other facial expressions. She pursed her lips and looked skeptically up at him from her seat behind the desk.

“And what did she think about Thrawn abandoning his post?”

Bastilis cocked his head slightly. “I believe she would consider that the more likely scenario than if someone told her there was a mutiny while she was unconscious,” The doctor paused slightly. “I have noticed, that those officers and crewers most loyal to the Grand Admiral believe that everyone sees him in the same light. Their opinion is: how can anyone view him as anything other than a King’s Lane in a game of Highland Challenge? The mere idea that _anyone_ would try to kick him off his perch is _ridiculous_ to them.”

Klary grinned. “Oh, I’ve been called ridiculous before but in this case, I rather like it.”

Bastilis didn’t smile but nodded. “Their fanaticism is very helpful although a bit… _ridiculous_.”

Klary blinked. Did he just try to make a joke?

She giggled.

“Did I say something amusing Commander?” the doctor asked, again cocking his head slightly.

“Not at all doctor. When will CMO Yermentic be back in working order?”

Bastilis’ frown deepened, “Likely in 3 to 4 days. In the meantime, I am acting CMO.”

“Yes, of course.” She soothed.

“What about the Grand Admiral? Will I be questioning him again?” There was a slight upturn to his lips now – the closest Klary had ever seen him to a smile. She shivered. The man did enjoy “interviews.”

“If we don’t find the Earth woman soon, then yes, you will be… _interviewing_ him again.”

Bastilis nodded slowly.

Klary wondered where in the Nine Hells Elinor Savona was, because whether the woman had any feelings for the Chiss Grand Admiral or not, Klary herself wouldn’t wish Bastilis on anyone. She doubted Savona would be so elusive if she knew half of what Thrawn had suffered - all to keep her safe.

Well, her and the child she carried.

 

Ellie had toyed with the idea of calling Drew or Fink from one of the burner phones, but thought better of it. Plausible deniability could go a long way and the last thing she wanted was to involve them in her intergalactic drama, most of which she was struggling to understand, herself.

They had stopped somewhere in Pennsylvania (again) because the baby had decided to use her bladder as a trampoline and the continuous sitting was hurting her back. She was perpetually hungry too. At the last rest stop she insisted Major Cran buy everything in one of the vending machines.

_Everything_.

They left with 40 bags of chips, 8 Snickers bars, 5 Pop Tarts, 7 bags each of Skittles, Reeces Pieces, M&Ms and Peanut M&Ms, 3 bags of Famous Amos chocolate chip cookies, 3 Crunch bars, 2 Twix bars, a Moon Pie and a Watchamacallit.

Ezra had brought in a giant black duffle bag – one of those, a shady character would carry guns, drugs or dirty money in….But no, it was just an afternoon’s worth of snacks for a pregnant woman carrying a half human/half Chiss baby.

To make matters worse, Cran kept looking around conspiratorially while Elinor fed the machine with quarters like an old lady would slip pennies into the slots at Vegas.

“Must you look guilty?” she pursed her lips as the second-to-last bag of Skittles got stuck in its ejection spring.

“Your insatiable appetite for terrible food is going to attract attention.” He growled.

She rolled her eyes, “Maybe you can finish up here. I have to pee again.”

He opened his mouth to object, but she was already waddling to the ladies room.

They had made it back on the highway, but she was already through 8 bags of chips and 3 bags of M&Ms. Ezra tried to comfort her as best he could and told her the best way to deal with the physical discomforts and stresses of her pregnancy was to meditate.

And so, she did.

That’s when she _felt_ it.

A bus. In Uptown.

_They needed to go back!_

“Major?” she called tentatively from the backseat.

Cran groaned and looked over at Pyrondi who simply shrugged. “Ok, we’ll stop again. What do you need? Food or ‘fresher?”

“Neither actually.” She glanced cautiously at Ezra who simply looked at her questioningly.

“I think we need to go back.”

“Go back where?” Pyrondi turned around in her seat to stare at her, her brow furrowed.

“Home.”

The silence was deafening.

At length, Pyrondi looked over at Cran, “Exit at the next one and find a refuel station.” She said quietly.

Cran started cursing under his breath; something about “betting a bantha’s ass he wasn’t going back”, “dumber than a dewback on spice for getting himself into this” and “damnit Thrawn, why?”

They stopped at a Mobile station, filled up the tank and parked in the dirt lot next to the tiny store adjacent to the pumps. Crissa sighed before getting out of the car and stretching.

“Walk with me?” she asked Elinor.

“Sure.”

There was a small wooded area behind the building and a picnic table was sheltered from view by several trees. They sat down and Pyrondi looked at her friend dejectedly. Elinor fidgeted with her neckless.

“We can’t go back, Elinor.”

“Why not?”

Her “vision” had been clear – it was more feeling than vision - she had been in Uptown on a bus…

“They’re still looking for you.” Pyrondi looked at her wide-eyed, startled that she had to explain this to someone as intelligent as Elinor Savona.

“Yes, they are…and it’s the last place they would think to look for me. Right under their nose.” She smiled confidently, “Think about it. It’s something Thrawn would do – hiding in plain sight, at least until the baby’s born. My doctor is in Uptown; a doctor who knows _my situation_. Once I know we’re ok, we can go – but I need to be near Uptown, unless you can get me Dr. Yermentic down here.”

Crissa flinched at the mention of the CMO’s name and Elinor instantly regretted bringing her up. “I’m sorry.” She bowed her head.

“No. It’s ok. I…you-you make a good point…about your baby. If you are comfortable with your doctor in Uptown…?” Pyrondi arched an eyebrow in question.

“Comfortable is a strong word.” She smirked, “He’s open minded enough not to run screaming for the hills if she comes out blue with red eyes.”

Pyrondi snorted. “Fair enough.”

She sighed and looked out over the landscape. Thrawn had wanted them to protect Elinor – but that encompassed more than just her – it included her daughter.

Thrawn’s daughter.

“I guess we better start heading back, then.”

She stood up, but Elinor remained seated. “I have one more request.”

The Imperial Lieutenant Commander rolled her head around on her shoulders and looked up at the sky, “Ugh, of course you do! What now?”

Elinor cringed, “Can we wait for just a bit before we start driving again? I’d like to talk to Ezra about a few things.”

“That, I’m _definitely_ ok with and I know Thae will be too.”

“Thanks” she smiled at Pyrondi, “for everything.”

“You’re an Imperial as far as we’re concerned... What do they say down here? Don’t _fuck_ with us?” Crissa grinned.

“Uh Thanks…I think.”

 

Ezra calmly sat down next to her. He could sense her nervousness; her hesitation.

Elinor wasn’t sure if she needed help, but was scared to ask, if it was ok to _not_ know the answer, or if it was ok to decide on her path going forward. With so much uncertainty, she thought maybe it wouldn’t be wise to proceed. That was why she wanted his advice.

“I don’t know what to do, Ezra.” She might as well be honest – she had no idea what she was doing and there was a lot riding on her figuring it out.

Her baby needed her to get her act together and _soon_.

“What have you learned from the Force?” he asked.

“I’ve learned how to meditate.” She looked at him curiously, “I’ve learned I can see things…coming.”

“Yes. Have you seen your path?”

_And there, in lies the problem._

“No. Not really. I’ve seen just…I _feel_ I need to go back. But I haven’t seen my _path_.”

It was difficult for Elinor to explain – she had dealt with absolutes or near absolutes her entire life. Mathematics, physics, and engineering relied heavily on certain truths, validating principles and having some strong basis for assumptions. This idea - this feeling - was so foreign and uncomfortable to her, she hardly knew how to articulate it.

Ezra seemed to understand though, because smiled sadly; knowingly.

“I can see so much ahead, but I can’t see… _that_. And I’m terrified.” Her throat tightened; tears beginning to form in the corners of her eyes. “So much is riding on me not screwing up. My daughter needs me…but I don’t want to risk feeling _that_ …again”

_That._

That cold, burning, uncontrolled power. Rage that would give her power.

So much power.

_No!_

“You must do what you think is right. No one else can make that decision. It’s yours to make. You can’t see ahead because there is nothing ahead to see without the decision. No matter what – you must make it, because so much _is_ riding on you.”

“Once I make the decision, I’ll be able to see again?”

“I don’t know that for certain.” He shook his head nervously, “But I do know, you have to make a decision, just as you made the decision to learn more about the Force.”

She was silent for a bit.

“Did you see more after you made that decision?” he asked softly.

She looked over at him, realization dawning on her, “Yes, but I thought it was _because_ of the meditation.”

He shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

They sat in silence until Pyrondi and Cran found them and asked if they were ready to start the long trip back. With a tired sigh and a bob of her head she walked to the car. Her stomach growled, and she immediately proceeded to eat all the Skittles, chocolate chip cookies, the moon pie and 5 bags of the peanut M&Ms.

While she was trying to satisfy her daughters continuous need for fatty foods – she herself was still losing weight and was starting to look a bit too skinny – she thought of the choice ahead of her; the one she had to make.

Somewhere between the 26th bag of chips and the Whatchamacallit, she fell asleep, exhausted.

 

She was on the bridge of the Chimaera and the ship was in hyperspace. She recognized the beautiful view – they must have been traveling for some time - because there were no starlines. Instead, it was the swirling view she had heard about. Elinor had never actually seen it because they only did micro-jumps to test the Chimaera’s hyperdrive, but the techs and crewers had told her about it.

She stood gawking in awe.

Suddenly a slight movement caught her eye. A woman stood gazing through the transparasteel with her back turned to Elinor; her face hidden from view. She wore a long burgundy dress that settled around her like the pedals of a flower, the long sleeves were partially covered by a black shawl. She looked to be about Elinor’s height but slightly thinner.

What struck her the most though, was the woman’s hair. It was brown and pinned into a loose, elaborate braid, stray wisps framed her face which was still, just out of sight. The woman slightly turned and a metal cylinder hanging from her belted waist came into Elinor’s view– one end of it was leather bound and looked like the grip of a tennis racket. It appeared to have a threaded bolt connection, but the other end was slightly tapered.

Such a strange thing…

The woman’s arm fell to her side near the metal cylinder, her skin was pale, and her hands were of the kind that had seen years of manual labor. Elinor gasped – could this be her _daughter_? Abruptly as if the woman heard her startled thoughts, she turned…but oh, so slowly, like she was underwater and unable to move.

Elinor never got a chance to see her face. The sharp breaking of the car jerked her awake.

“What in the Nine Hells was that?” Cran screamed, “I damn near hit that thing – it ran right out into the roadway!”

She blinked drowsily. “Was it brown with a white under belly, have four skinny legs and stand about as high as the front of the car?”

Pyrondi and Cran looked at each other. “Yeah.”

“It was probably a deer.” Ellie explained.

“Are they dangerous?”

She snorted. “Only if you don’t cook them properly.”

Ezra made a face and Cran laughed heartily.

 

Ellie looked out the tinted window watching the landscape flash by, shaking off the dream of the woman. She was convinced it had been her daughter; it was a vision.

She had made her decision.

Thinking back to her feelings before she fell asleep there was the overwhelming sense of love and appreciation for the baby growing inside her. Elinor wanted to take care of her, help her, teach her, let her know that she was loved by her parents. She was a mother who wanted to protect her child and make the world a better place for her daughter’s sake.

Yes, it had been decided.

“Ezra?”

“Yes?”

“Can you teach me how to use the Force to…protect my daughter and make things better – better as in…help people? I mean, it’s sort of like a superpower, right? What use is a superpower if you don’t do some good with it?”

“A superpower?” Ezra looked a bit disturbed by this notion.

“Well, no not really like a power per se, sort of like Spiderman. I have an _ability_ so why not use it to help people?” Elinor clarified hastily.

“I don’t know what a Spiderman is, but I understand what you mean about wanting to help people.” Ezra bowed his head, “We use the Force for knowledge and defense…We have worked on meditation and understanding the nature of the Force. I wasn’t sure how you felt about the defense part…If you’re ready…?”

Elinor nodded once, “I’m ready.”

“Good.” He smiled thinly at her, “In that case, I have something for you.”

Elinor was about to ask if it was more food but thought better of it. Ezra seemed very solemn and she didn’t want to make light of what he was trying to teach her or tell her. The baby kicked inside her, and she shifted slightly in her seat.

How could an SUV feel so cramped?

_Because if you keep eating vending machines, you’re going to need your own zip code, Elinor!_

She sighed heavily. Ezra had turned and was rummaging in a duffle bag for something. He had apparently found it because he resituated himself in his seat and turned toward her.

The young Jedi handed her a rolled-up cloth. “This is for you, I made one for myself with something I found in a store selling jewels – it was called an amethyst. I left my other lightsaber with…my family.” He looked melancholy.

She took the cloth from him.

“What is it?”

“A lightsaber. It’s a weapon a Jedi uses.” Ezra explained.

“A weapon!?” Elinor’s eyes widened instantly remembering her trial and _extreme_ error with guns, “I don’t think this is a good idea!”

He shrugged and smiled slightly causing her to wrinkle her brow.

She looked down at the thing in her hand, it wasn’t exactly heavy…but it wasn’t feather light either. Her heart skipped a beat when she felt hard metal through the fabric. Carefully Elinor removed the wrapping and gasped.

It was the metal cylinder the woman had in her dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi All!
> 
> My keyboard is better...sort of. Apologizxe for the terrible esiting. Just kidding. It really is butttter.
> 
> So couple things:   
> Yermentic is back in the game!  
> She plays a key role coming up here - oh...remember Captain Dizon (gasp!) you forgot about him!?!? HOW COULD YOU!?  
> Elinor wants to "see"   
> I view this as her growing to understand her power from her work with Ezra (in previous Chapter) - I don't think she's as scared of her foresight anymore. I think she's more concerned about her feelings and how they would impact what she can and cannot see. It's the "feeling" part that would drive her away from all of it and the one thing that's stopping her from completely isolating herself is the baby.   
> Bastilis doesn't smile.   
> He'll end up smiling in a few more chapters.
> 
> Side note:  
> I have the middle and end of Part III mapped out in my head...got problems with the beginning. Oh yeah and all the parts in between. Parts I and II were, for some strange reason, easy. Part III may take a while. Sorry!


	35. Stronger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings:  
> Graphic Imagery, Implied Torture
> 
> In This Chapter:  
> Lightsaber practice  
> Alone in the woods  
> The reason she left  
> Elinor "meets" Harding  
> You're not alone!  
> The woman on the Chimaera  
> Stronger  
> Look who's taunting now!

 

They arrived back in Uptown under cover of darkness, but they refused to let her go home.

They would stay in a hotel outside the city until her next appointment with Dr. Phillips. Her sense of time was slowly becoming skewed.

Elinor had no idea how “far along” her pregnancy truly was. She knew that the baby inside her required a massive amount of energy and that eating a monstrous amount of food – spicy, junk, healthy or otherwise wasn’t helping _her_ but going right to her unborn child. Ellie’s net weight loss was only five pounds, but she looked gaunt and frail. She had always been close to medium build and contoured. Now she was just too thin – with the exception being the front bulge of her belly.

When she wasn’t working with Ezra on the use of her “lightsaber” which was, in her mind, a giant purple glow stick, she was eating. The poor Jedi had tried to keep her from using the thing like a tennis racket; she always aligned her body perpendicularly to “the attacker” and attempted to swing like she was hitting one to the baseline.

When she finally broke herself of that, she reverted to the even-worse “skillet/fly swatter” which looked like she was attacking an intruder with a frying pan or a bunch of mosquitos with a rolled-up Washington Post.

“You’re doing it again.” Ezra commented dryly

“Yes, I know!” Elinor snapped, “You try doing this when you’re obscenely hungry while there’s a baby’s foot pressing into your spleen - at least I think it’s her foot!”

Ezra had said the amethyst had “called” to him. Elinor had opened her mouth to point out that an amethyst was just a mineral; a pretty stone, an inanimate object that had no feelings or thoughts of its own and could therefore take no such action.

She wisely kept her mouth shut, once again feeling this was something that Ezra understood much better than she did and if she made some quirky comment it would only serve to discourage him.

“Time to meditate.”

Elinor shut off her industrial strength hedge trimmer and sat down heavily on a log. Grabbing yet another stick of butter, she poured Tabasco Scorpion Sauce onto it with gusto. They were in the woods behind their Super 8 Hotel, far enough away from the public not to be seen or heard.

It always seemed after a brief rest – meditation - she felt so much better. It would be nice if she could keep that feeling longer or find a way to rest but not have to become partially comatose to get the relief she needed.

After shoving the last of the butter in her mouth, a thought occurred to her “Ezra? Can I use it to get more energy?”

“You can draw upon the Force, yes.” He said

“I think I’m doing it wrong because I’m always tired – it’s not just because I’m pregnant, I don’t think.” She shook her head as if to clear it. “I feel like something’s pushing me down.”

“Is it from outside or within yourself?” Ezra watched her intently

Elinor cocked her head and looked at him questioningly for a long moment until he sighed. The young Jedi got up from his sitting position and made to head back toward the hotel. She scrambled to follow.

“We’re done? Already? I can still do more – I’ve got 12 sticks of butter left and another bottle of my marinade!”

“I’m done, but I think you would benefit from further study.” Ezra looked down at her with a frown.

_When did he get so tall?_

Had he grown up suddenly – or had he always been this way?

She looked at him suddenly nervous as she absently ran her fingers over the ridges of her neckless. This was not something she was meant to do by herself. She didn’t know how to deal with this power; this Force. She spent her entire life hiding and now when she finally opened up for help…Was he leaving?

_Stop you’re hormonal and ridiculous, Elinor!_

“But…I think you should be here too.” It sounded like a question more than a statement or a request to her ears.

“You need to do this yourself Elinor. This is something only for you.” He shook his head gently.

“But…I’m – I’m scared.” She could feel tears welling in her eyes.

He inhaled deeply and nodded, “Trust in yourself. Trust in the Force.”

Ezra Bridger turned and left her in the woods behind the hotel.

Alone with herself.

 

She sat, as best she could on the ground and focused on her breathing. She didn’t know how much time had passed. Had she even closed her eyes?

Elinor finally realized it was dark and colder, but she was no longer in the wooded area outside of Uptown…

She looked down at herself and screamed.

The dome of her belly, where her daughter was meant to be kept warm and safe was not there, instead there was dried blood on her clothes, her hands were sticky with it. Panic stricken, she turned and came face-to-face with Thrawn.

“Thrawn!” She tried to move toward him, but her legs were held into place, again she looked down.

The blood on her clothes was gone but now her legs were chained in place.

“Thrawn! Please!” her voice was pleading– did he not hear her?

_Does he not see me?_

His face twisted in contempt, “It was you who left, Elinor.” His voice was acidic.

“I left because I loved you! I thought it was what you wanted.” She was sobbing now, “I knew I could never be so selfish because…I…love…you.” She doubled over in pain – their daughter was kicking madly at her internals.

She blinked away the tears and tried to stand up straighter, but he was gone – she doubled over again sobbing but not from _physical_ pain. The restraints on her legs loosened and she curled up around herself on the cold floor and continued to cry.

Eventually the sobs turned into quiet exhausted sighs. She had drifted into and out of an uneasy dreamless sleep.

She was startled awake by the hiss of a door, at least it sounded like one of the doors on the Chimaera. Elinor got up shakily peering into the dark.

“Thrawn?”

“No. He’s not here.” The voice was uncomfortably familiar – but she couldn’t place it. The sound of it made her stomach flip.

She turned to the voice but saw no one there.

“Who are you?”

“We’ve met several times before.” He sounded amused.

“Who _are_ you?” Elinor asked again feeling herself getting frustrated.

“My name…is George Harding.”

Her eyes widened in recognition. “I’ve heard of you.”

“I’m flattered.” He laughed – it was not a nice sound.

“What do you want Mr. Harding?” Elinor was starting to feel like someone was trying to pull a rug out from underneath her feet.

“I wanted to see you…ask you some questions.” Harding sounded bored.

“About?” Elinor pursed her lips.

“The Chimaera.”

If felt like someone tried to reach out to hold her still, but not in any physical way.

_What is this?_

“My mythology is rusty Mr. Harding. I’m not much help to you,” Elinor said blandly.

Again, the mental feeling of attempted dominance over her. It was the feeling of being pulled slightly as if someone had tried to put a loose rope around her subconscious mind and sought to reign her in. Elinor’s resistance felt like fingernails on a chalk board.

She flinched and squinted into the dark, again looking for the physical manifestation of George Harding.

“Where are you, it may be beneficial to talk face-to-face?” Elinor turned from side to side carefully. She had developed a headache.

“That will not help you.” Harding said coldly.

“Perhaps you should leave, then?” She answered back in the same cutting manner; realizing this man was likely the source of the mental pressure she was feeling.

“No.” he said quietly, “I’ll get what I want, either from you or from him…”

Suddenly her entire being was flooded with feelings. Devastating emotions.

They seared through her, causing her to scream and spasm

Rage.

Hatred.

Cruelty.

Terror.

Pain.

Overwhelming despair.

She was alone. All alone. She would always be alone. Thrawn didn’t love her. Had never loved her. She was foolish to believe that she would be anything other than alone.

There was a frantic thumping from inside her.

Her heart.

It would explode from the pain within her head.

She would die. Yes…

She would die.

The thumping continued but there was a part of Elinor’s mind that understood it was _not_ her heart that was beating against her ribs.

_You’re not alone!_

She had a child. Given to her by a man that she loved. She would never be alone ever again. She wasn’t foolish; Thrawn knew about her pregnancy and had been on his way back.

Back to her.

Those terrible feelings of despair and fear, pain and anger were _wrong_.

“NO!” She screamed.

Elinor summoned as much energy as she could and mentally pushed back on the feelings. As soon as she did, the pressure lifted without any resistance, but the mental energy she had summoned boomeranged back, as if she leaned against a surface that wasn’t entirely stable and fell backward.

Backward.

Into darkness.

 

She woke again, this time on the bridge of the Chimaera. It was the same scene as before.

The woman in the burgundy dress with the lightsaber at her belt.

Her beautiful braided hair falling down her back.

Her pale skin.

But not her face.

Elinor tried to ask her who she was but there was just eerie silence. The woman stood staring out at the whirling misty image of hyperspace as if mesmerized by it. Elinor continued to try to make out her features and get her attention but was unsuccessful. Finally, as she was starting to become discouraged, the woman cocked her head to the side, as if listening.

She turned.

The woman had dark eyes, high cheek bones, thin lips and light freckles from a youth spent out in the sun. Elinor was surprised at how beautiful she was.

_She_ was…

The woman…was _her_!

 

Her eyes snapped open. She was laying on the ground in the woods behind a hotel outside of Uptown. Elinor sat up straight and felt a stick dig into her; she winced.

The baby gave her a gentle kick, as if in question – “ _Everything ok, out there_?”

She moved her hand over her swollen middle soothingly and smiled slightly. She was sore. She was tired. She had a twig in a very inconvenient location. But she was not alone, and she was stronger than she’d ever been.

 

He sat in the darkness. He didn’t mind it; he preferred it.

He also preferred the colder temperatures interrogators used to stifle a human prisoner’s natural defensive system.

He knew what was coming. Still he sat. He never paced – it was amusing, that humans felt the need to expel excess energy so uselessly but then slept for six hours a day.

Instead of burning energy uselessly by treading the same path over and over again in his tiny cell, he would go through once again, in his mind, what he knew.

He already knew what was coming for him…that he could _not_ control.

What he _could_ control was what, if anything, was disclosed.

The important thing now was to buy as much time for Elinor as possible.

It was imperative that their child be born on the planet – never would he allow his daughter to become a slave to a corrupt and unjust system.

He had sworn an oath, yes, but his child should not have to suffer because of what _he_ was. If she were born on the Chimaera, she would automatically be considered “Imperial property” and despite his rank he would be powerless to protect her upon their return to the Empire.

She would have to remain on Earth; which would likely spell doom for her as well. She would never be able to go out in public, she would be feared and hunted; both she _and_ her mother.

No, Elinor needed time. He would give her that.

At all cost.

He knew that Harding could sense and manipulate emotions – he was Force sensitive and would likely be hunting Elinor if he thought she could provide him information more readily than he could. Hence the Grand Admiral needed to walk a very fine line. Give some information, but not too much. Just enough to whet their appetite and think they could extract yet more without having to intensify their hunt for her.

And they were likely looking…but they couldn’t _find_ her.

He smiled tightly.

No, if they had, they’d be dangling her in front of him by now.

His thoughts were interrupted by the hiss of the cell door. He didn’t bother looking up. It wasn’t Bastilis; he could tell by the man’s approach.

“So good to see you upright, Grand Admiral!” Harding said cheerfully, “I hope I’m not catching you at a bad time.”

Thrawn remained silent for a moment.

“Not at all. What can I do for you Mr. Harding?” he said smoothly

Harding let a slow smile creep onto his face, “I wanted to let you know we are getting close to finding Elinor Savona.”

“Are you now?” Thrawn smiled slightly, “Are you really?”

Harding’s smile fell slightly, and his eyes narrowed, “Yes, but I do have to say she’s being quite troublesome. It would be a shame if someone had to _stun_ her.”

Thrawn looked up at him expressionlessly.

“Thank you for informing me Mr. Harding. Was there anything else?” Thrawn cocked an eyebrow.

Harding was furious at being so easily dismissed.

“Perhaps I will send you the live feed?” He snapped, “Would you enjoy watching her die in childbirth?” His voice became very quiet, “I hear it’s quite painful.”

“I too have heard that. It is fortunate you cannot find her.” Thrawn allowed himself a slight smile.

Harding’s eyes flashed in anger. Thrawn was looking for the reaction – Harding was nowhere near close to finding Elinor.

“Apologies, you indicated you were _close_ to finding her.”

“And when I do, you’ll rot together.” He spat.

He stormed to the door and motioned for Bastilis to enter.

“I want to know where Elinor Savona is, Doctor. What does she have that can help us? I want the Grand Admiral to tell us. You have license to do what you think is best. Don’t be afraid to make a mess.” Harding glared at the Chiss.

“Of course.”

The sadistic human stepped inside gingerly and looked at Thrawn, “Hello, Grand Admiral. I’m sure you heard Mr. Harding’s directive.” The Imperial medic removed a syringe from his coat pocket, “May I talk with you about Dr. Elinor Savona?”

Thrawn sneered coldly at him, “You may try.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!
> 
> Soooo...there was a conversation between Harding and Klary in the last chapter...interesting little thought.
> 
> I know I should probably say something else here about upcoming tid bits - helpful odds and ends...but really what I want to do I bounce up and down over Part III - I think I kinda, sorta, maybe, possibly, hypothetically got over a bump with Part III. 
> 
> So I know the major plot parts and how it ends. Now I also know how it starts...I think. 
> 
> Question: Does anyone know how many chapters I can go up to? 50? 100? (I swear I won't get to 100, I'm asking for a friend. LOL)


	36. Discoveries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings:  
> None
> 
> In This Chapter:  
> Yermentic: a pragmatist, going back to work.  
> A bus in Uptown  
> Captain Dizon's theory  
> Elinor's Appointment  
> Lullaby for Klary  
> Harding revealed  
> Handbag?  
> Thrawn's biggest fear  
> Yermentic is disappointed in the Grand Admiral.

 

Tabitha Yermentic was not idealistic in any way. She knew the Grand Admiral was in love with Elinor, even a blind Gamorrean could see that, but Thrawn was also committed to strong ideals.

Was it heartbreaking to watch his struggle? Yes.

Was his decision to leave her, surprising? No.

_Extenuating circumstances._

It’s always extenuating circumstances, that get you in the end, Yermentic thought.

It was extenuating circumstances that brought them back here.

She had agreed with him that the baby had to be born on the planet; had also agreed that she would take a “brief shore leave” at the time of birth. The Imperial presence needed to be minimal during Elinor’s pregnancy and Imperial resources could play little to no part in the baby’s arrival into the universe.

The Emperor would already take issue with the child being the product of an alien and a human. The fact that the child was Thrawn’s would simply make it worse... _a_ _lot_ worse. So many men and women jockeyed for position and favor. Sure, the Grand Admiral had power and authority but that could be taken away by the snap of Palpatine’s fingers and there were plenty of people on Coruscant willing to help the Emperor with his hand waving.

So, after explaining Elinor’s condition to Yermentic before her unfortunate overdose, as well as his intentions, _why_ would he abandon the Chimaera to go down to the surface?

The doctor had to ask several times if, what she was told was _really_ true.

_Thrawn_ abandoned his post?

_Pellaeon_ aided his desertion?

Did she enter into an alternate reality?

The more Yermentic thought about it, the more it didn’t make sense.

She had recovered quickly, perhaps spurred on by the feeling that something wasn’t quite right. The medics were as attentive as they always were, which is to say they would check on her at least every four hours. After three days, it was time for her discharge.

Dr Bastilis was in charge of that…

Tabitha despised the man but for the purposes of getting what she wanted, she chose to put on her smile-for-the-holovid face and act thankful and relieved to be going back to work again.

“Thank you, Doctor for your assistance. I understand I would have been in worse shape if it hadn’t been for you. I owe you a great debt.” Yermentic smiled as warmly as she could while trying to suppress her gag reflex.

_Mynock excrement._

“It was my pleasure to help, Doctor.” Bastilis nodded without smiling.

_Tell me another lie, you Bantha’s ass._

“I’m ready to take on most of my duties, but I would greatly appreciate any support you can provide. Help from a skilled doctor is always welcomed.” Yermentic brushed her uniform absently as she said this, refusing to look the bastard in the eye.

“It would be my pleasure, Doctor. How may I assist you?” Bastilis asked smoothly

_I’ve been floating around in a bacta tank for two months you kriffing idiot!_

“Perhaps, I should take my cues from you Doctor.” Yermentic tried to make herself look embarrassed, “I’ve been a bit out of it lately.”

Bastilis blinked.

_This is the part where you say something you slimy –_

“Yes of course.” The other doctor seemed to fix whatever circuitry that had come loose and sighed heavily, “I can request medic Jenson help you with our current schedule, if that is acceptable?”

_Mynock excrement._

“Of course, Doctor. Thank you.” Yermentic smiled.

Fine.

She would pal around with Medic Jenson and figure out what the hell was going on aboard ship because Tabitha Yermentic knew for certain _something_ was seriously wrong.

 

Elinor could no longer see her feet but that was okay, because she had begun to _stop_ losing weight. Her face began to fill in a little – her cheeks became less sallow and her thighs and hips filled in a bit more making her look pregnant as opposed to having a bowling ball propped up by two PVC pipes.

She had been slightly smaller than medium build before the pregnancy, but she had been next door to underweight for the last few weeks. Suddenly, the butter seemed to work, and she no longer needed to purchase whole vending machines.

She had shifted to salads, soups, sandwiches, stakes, burgers, and chicken, but it wasn’t edible without Tabasco sauce dripping from it. She used it as salad dressing, she used it in French Onion soup, she poured it over tuna salad sandwiches and the stakes, burgers and chicken she consumed were unrecognizable under the dripping redness.

Cran, Pyrondi and Ezra were all out to three separate grocery stores looking for some more of the Scorpion Tabasco (“you ate all of it within a 10-kilometer radius, ma’am!”) when Ellie realized she hadn’t been to see the doctor in over a week.

She debated with herself, finally she called Dr. Phillip’s office. Claire picked up the phone and she requested an appointment.

“Ya know, you’re in luck, we’re completely free today,” said the nurse/receptionist/alien sex enthusiast.

“Shocker.” Elinor snorted.

Claire apparently didn’t get the joke because she continued, “So do you want to come in today? Maybe within the next hour or two?”

Elinor looked at the clock.

If she picked up the 86 Bus in 10 minutes, then the 59 Bus, she should be able to get there in an hour – she would have to walk a couple blocks at the end but that would be fine, if she didn’t have to rush.

“Can I make an appointment for an hour and fifteen?” she asked.

Claire sighed, “Ok but normally we don’t offer appointments on the fifteens, just in case we get busy.”

“Right.” Ellie intoned.

“Alright, we’ll see you and your bundle in an hour and fifteen.”

“Thanks.” Elinor smiled. With any luck she could get another ultrasound picture.

She hurriedly wrote a note to Cran, Pyrondi and Ezra about the appointment and where it was. She left it on the sad little TV stand in the hotel room she shared with Crissa. Elinor walked briskly to the bus stop to catch the 86 Bus, realizing then, that this was her “vision” – she was going to be on a bus in Uptown.

It was a comfort; knowing this was where she was supposed to be.

 

Doctor Yermentic followed medic Jenson around like a lost Loth-cat. She was as bubbly as Bastilis was monotonous; she chatted animatedly to the doctor about what the medical staff had been doing while the CMO sloshed around in the Bad Bath.

Jenson oversaw organizing the stormtrooper physicals that were due this quarter and assigned doctors to each squad. Yermentic dutifully requested she be the examining physician on two of the squads. It would be good to work her way back slowly.

The first squad was of standard size – all the troopers were fit, although most complained of being antsy and wanting a tall Corellian ale.

The doctor finished documenting her notes and began studying up on the next squad of troopers. It was significantly smaller in size – squads usually had anywhere between nine and thirteen troopers. In this case there were only five and one of those had been a transplant from a different squad.

Yermentic looked at the roster – five troopers had been declared deceased due to accident shortly after she was placed into a medically-induced coma and submerged in bacta for nine weeks.

_Interesting._

She had finished up with all of them, save the Captain of the troupe, when Jenson was called away on an emergent issue. Yermentic assured her she’d finish and perform shift turnover with Bastilis if he required it.

With ugly thoughts inside her head over having to converse with the other doctor again she called her last patient.

“Trooper TC-704 – Captain Dizon.” Yermentic looked down at her datapad, “You’re up.”

“Yes ma’am,” came the muffled voice.

Captain Dizon entered the medical observation room and Yermentic didn’t even have to ask him to remove his helmet. It came off immediately.

“Doctor Yermentic. Grand Admiral Thrawn assigned me to investigate the attack on you prior to his…disappearance, ma’am.” Dizon looked at her solemnly.

“Ah, well good job Captain.” She smirked, “And the Grand Admiral apparently decided he didn’t need to stick around to see the results of your good work.”

Dizon frowned. “Ma’am, someone was able to use your code cylinder and I think I know how!”

“Yeah, the thermostat has a setting to save your preferences based on your code cylinder identification. Whoever stole the bacta worked backward to extract my code cylinder number from the thermostat,” she explained coldly.

“I figured this out, two seconds before I got damn-near needled to death, soldier. What’s your point?” Yermentic felt her ire rise like flames and apparently Dizon was the one to be roasting on the spit.

The stormtrooper captain on the other hand was not at all disheartened by the doctor’s indignation, but simply nodded.

“And do you find it strange that Thrawn disappeared shortly after you were taken out?”

She wrinkled her brow, “What does that got to do with the price of blue milk?”

“Did you hear about the five stormtrooper deaths in this squad?”

“I just read the note saying they had been deceased in an accident.” Yermentic said as she cocked her head, “You don’t think it was an accident?”

“Nope,” Dizon had absolute confidence in his answer. “I saw the bodies for one – they’d been shot.”

“Excuse me?”

“All five of them, shot. What kind of accident results in a shot to the chest, head, neck and torso?” Dizon asked angrily. “Don’t you see?”

Yermentic shook her head, “War game gone wrong? Honestly Captain what am I to infer from this without having additional informa-“

“It was a mutiny!!” Dizon bellowed.

Yermentic looked at him as if he’d suddenly grown a second head. There was a long uncomfortable silence while they stared at each other and then,

“I-um…I – ok.” She inhaled deeply, “Suppose your theory, however outlandish is true, why would they want to take me out?”

“So, the puppet Bastilis could interrogate him.”

Suddenly Tabitha Yermentic’s stomach felt queasy. She had seen how Bastilis had interacted with Thrawn. Either the man didn’t like aliens, didn’t like authority and/or didn’t like Thrawn specifically – whatever category his objection with the Grand Admiral fell under, didn’t matter.

It had been obvious.

She remembered making a mental note to tell him to check his attitude the next time he was fortunate enough to speak with the Grand Admiral.

She had never gotten a chance to actually do it…

 “So, who’s running this show? Certainly not Bastilis – he doesn’t have the staves.”

“I’ve poked around enough to find out that Greta Klary was the instigator, but the strings are being pulled by someone on the ground. I don’t know who it is.” Dizon shook his head in frustration.

“Commander Klary?” Yermentic gaped at him in disbelief, “Are you sure?”

Dizon nodded gravely, “I never thought this would ever happen on an Imperial Star Destroyer. Certainly not the Chimaera and certainly not under Thrawn.”

The doctor was lost in her thoughts as she absently assessed the stormtrooper’s biometric readings. Finally, after documenting her findings, something occurred to her.

“If it was a mutiny, Thrawn may still be alive because we’re still here.”

Dizon had replaced his helmet but cocked his head in question.

He had spent bits and pieces of the last few weeks assembling scraps of information from different sources. Most was overheard from his own squad mates – things he really shouldn’t have heard. Some of it was from techs; some was gossip from the mess hall attendants.

He was willing to pull at anything if it would bring him closer to the truth.

“The Chimaera is locked down. They haven’t gotten everything they need from him.” She clarified.

By his body language she could tell Dizon understood her line of thinking, “So…he may still be aboard the ship.” He said slowly.

Yermentic bobbed her head, “Do you think you could get me into the high security cell block?”

 

She hurriedly exited the 59 Bus; the 86 Bus had been delayed by 5 minutes resulting in her missing the 59. Overall, she was 15 minutes late and would have to hustle to get to Dr. Phillips’ office on time. She could no longer afford a twenty-five-dollar late fee, as the FBI felt compelled to freeze all her bank accounts.

It was just as well, the money she was paid by the Imperial Navy was tainted and she refused to spend those funds. She had pulled cash from her savings account when Cran and Pyrondi had indicated they needed monetary support to assist in her safe keeping. Her savings account was established well before she received her first paycheck from her most recent “contract” so she felt better about using _that_ money. She had emptied the account.

The money was running out.

She made it to the front desk just as the digital clock changed from 12:44 to 12:45. Claire was right there waiting for her.

“Hi! Was wondering where you were! You had us nervous!” she smiled good naturedly, but it didn’t reach up to her black eye-liner.

“Sorry! The bus was late. Is everything ok?”

“Sure. It’s just been so busy lately,” Claire sighed.

Elinor looked around and tried not to breathe. The cat urine smell would result in the front room smelling like cat urine plus regurgitated Tabasco sauce if she did.

“I understand.” She bobbed her head, “Can we go before I vomit all over the place?”

“Oh! Sure.” Claire opened the door for her and ushered her into one of their two exam rooms.

“He’ll be right in.” she said and something about her tone and facial expression caused the hair on Elinor’s neck to bristle.

“Ok.”

Just a few seconds later, Dr. Phillips strode in, his hair wild and his eyes shifting restlessly.

“Ah, excellent excellent. Elinor, how are you feeling?”

“Hungry.” She answered truthfully.

The doctor bobbed his head, “Ah good, good. That means the baby is growing then. Shall we take a look?”

“Yes, please!” she beamed.

 

The baby girl was approximately seven pounds plus or minus five ounces based on the ultrasound measurements. She was almost ready for her entrance into the world.

“Ah excellent, excellent. Now, Elinor, have you considered inducing?”

“I – I would like to wait as long as possible to make sure she’s healthy.”

“Ah good, good. And did you want a C-section or are you going to let Bob’s handiwork slip out the old fashion way?”

Ellie blushed.

Despite the fact she was pregnant, she still managed to go red in the face over certain euphemisms and innuendos. It was embarrassing that she was flushed, it made her blush even more.

“Um – I guess I’ll just wait and see.” She intended it as a statement, but it sounded more like a question.

“Of course, of course! Now, I have a few things l want to give you to review prior to your next appointment.” He patted her hand gently, “I’ll be right back.”

“Thank you” she smiled absently as she stared down at the ultrasound picture of her baby.

Elinor wondered idly what Thrawn would want to call her. Would he mind if Elinor picked out a traditional Earth name or would he want to give her a Chiss name?

He had told her his full name once - a mash of hard vowels and soft consonants that reminded her of a song. She felt the sudden sting of tears because she would never be able to reproduce it. All she had left of him was his rank plague, memories and their daughter.

It was then that Elinor Savona realized that the Grand Admiral had given her everything.

His rank plague was a symbol of his sense of duty and dedication to higher ideals.

The memories of him were representative of his respect, commitment, and interest in her

And their daughter…a gift of unwavering love.

She heard the door to the exam room open as she brushed a tear away. She looked up and her heart stopped in mid-beat.

Agent Douglas Whittland was thunderously angry and had finally found the person most responsible for his rage.

 

Commander Klary was sitting at her desk studying the daily status reports when the guard informed her Dr. Tabitha Yermentic was outside her office. She frowned.

“Send her in.” Klary ordered.

The older woman breezed in and smiled thinly at Klary, “Commander, I wanted to inform you that you are due for your annual physical.”

Klary scowled, “I’ve already had it.”

“Not according to my records.”

“I had it several weeks ago, actually. I believe you were still in treatment, Doctor.”

“Hm. Dr. Bastilis didn’t document it then, because there’s no record of it ever occurring.” Yermentic frowned apologetically, “Perhaps we can do a quick assessment now and you can pop in for a more thorough assessment later – I can provide you a waiver if we can get a couple biometric readings.”

Klary sighed. She was really starting to hate Bastilis, “Of course, Doctor.”

Yermentic dutifully started taking her readings. Klary was sitting pitifully in the chair behind the desk with a few cufflings hanging from her arms and a skull cap on her head when the doctor frowned.

“Hmm. Greta have you been to the solar room lately?”

“Yes ma’am.” Klary looked up at her.

“Your nutrient levels are quite a bit off.” The doctor explained.

“Oh?”

“Hmm. I’d like to start you on a regiment of nutrient injections to supplement and I’d also like you to go to the solar room three times a week.”

“Doctor, I really do feel fine!” Klary objected.

“Yes, you do now until one day you end up dancing cheek to plate with the command walkway. Now, how would that seem to the bridge, hm?” Yermentic scolded.

Klary sighed.

Yermentic started burrowing in her bag like a rabid Scurrier, “Ah, I thought I might have had one in here!” she mumbled, “I have your first dose of nutrients right here, Commander! Might as well get started.”

“Fine,” Klary breathed.

“Now, so you are aware, you may experience some dizziness. Some people, especially women faint, so if you’ll sit back in your seat – yes like that – thank you. People report no other symptoms other than an increase in urination.”

“Just get it over with.” Klary gritted her teeth.

Yermentic nodded as she started humming an old lullaby, something Klary remembered as Nubian, no maybe it was from Alderaan…she couldn’t remember.

Greta Klary didn’t remember Tabitha Yermentic walking briskly over to the thermostat. She didn’t remember the doctor muttering something akin to “Klary should know better” and “It’s awfully irresponsible to leave your personnel settings in a thermostat when someone can hijack your codes.”

Commander Klary didn’t remember _any_ of that because Command Klary was _unconscious_.

But what she did remember was coming out of her oblivious state with a needle. Yermentic had jabbed it roughly into her thigh and was devotedly helpful to getting her patient back to working order.

The poor commander had suffered a rather severe fainting spell.

The Chimaera’s CMO had never experienced anything quite like it and warned Klary to be cautious for all future injections. She would make a note of the incident in Klary’s permanent record so if any other medical staff were to examine her, they would know to keep her in a prone position during inoculations.

Klary was embarrassed and thanked the doctor for her assistance never knowing that Yermentic had taken her code cylinder sequence in the same exact way the doctor’s code was stolen months prior.

 

Whittland marched her into Dr. Phillips’ office and he was not gentle.

The chair at the desk was turned toward the wall but it was obvious someone was sitting in it; the man’s build, and posture was too large and rigid to be the doctors. Whittland merely pushed her to the edge of the dilapidated IKEA special, held her firmly by the back of her neck and stood menacingly behind her; preventing her escape. The man behind the desk finally cocked his head of dark hair and Elinor heard him chuckle.

She froze.

“I’m so glad you finally came Elinor, I’ve been looking forward to seeing you again.”

The man from her dream!

_George Harding._

“What do you want?” She snapped.

“I want the Chimaera,” He was still facing away from her and she vaguely recalled never really having seen his face in her dream.

“I’m not the one to give it to you!” She snarled.

“Ah, yes. Thrawn.”

Elinor stopped and became very still.

“He sends his regards, by the way…or what’s left of him, does at least.”

She heard Whittland laugh behind her as she began to tremble. The baby began to move, swishing around inside her restlessly as if she could sense her mother’s emotions. Harding continued.

“I believe the esteemed Grand Admiral gave you something before you left his ship. I want it.”

_The baby!_

“I don’t know what you mean, Harding.” She was in full-blown panic mode now desperately looking around the room for a weapon, anything to throw or swing with.

If only she had her lightsaber.

“Ah, I see you got my message!” Harding laughed in amusement. “I’m so glad. You’re going to be fun to play with. Thrawn was fun too; a worthy opponent, but you - you’re the real prize. So… _passionate_ ”

In that instant Elinor’s heart lurched, her whole body jerked and the man behind the desk turned.

“TASSI!?” She screamed.

He smirked at her, obviously enjoying her revulsion and fear as he looked her up and down. He stood slowly and advanced toward her like a predatorial cat – cool, calm, calculating and dangerous. Tassi/Harding leaned over her much like he did during their first meeting.

“I gave up the name when it was no longer useful.” He shrugged.

She could only look up at him in disbelief and horror.

“Elinor, I’ve missed you. Though I do have to say, you’ve gained some weight.” He gently brushed his knuckles against her cheek.

She angrily swatted him away, but he grabbed at her hand and held it tightly - too tightly. Elinor gasped. She glared up at him through suppressed tears, but he wasn’t looking at her face, he was studying her bracelet.

Thrawn’s rank plaque.

_Oh no!_

“A fine piece of jewelry.” He murmured softly, and without loosening his grip on her he yanked the plaque off her wrist with his other hand causing her to cry out.

“You’ve always been so helpful, Dr. Savona.” Harding smiled widely at her.

Elinor’s eyes widened as he studied the red, blue and gold tiles. Did he think Thrawn had given her some secret information about the Chimaera hidden in the plaque? Harding’s eyes flicked to her face and he moved his free hand down to her pregnant belly.

“I have everything I need now. Thank you.” He said still watching her face.

The baby girl kicked wildly inside her causing Elinor’s chest and sides to hurt. Her nostrils flailed, and her eyes narrowed from the force of the child’s terror. Despite her best efforts, Harding saw. His mouth quirked up in a slight smile.

“She’ll be strong. Very strong…and useful.” He sighed as if he were coming out of a pleasant daydream.

“W-What do you mean?” Elinor could feel hot tears start to form and pool at the corners of her eyes.

Harding looked shocked, “Surely you know? Your daughter has the gift. You have it don’t you?”

For the first time, Elinor looked away from him. He chuckled.

“Ooooh, c’mon I can’t believe you’re afraid of it! I know you’re as passionate as any other person. Imagine what you can do with it.”

She said nothing but felt the pooled tears fall down her face. Harding still held her firmly and she began to struggle away from him. He watched her effort with amusement for a few moments and became bored, deciding to release her instead of risk damaging the ultimate prize.

Elinor stepped back right into Whittland.

Harding gently grazed the dome of her belly with the back of his hand and whispered, “I’ll make sure she uses it appropriately.”

“NO!”

Terror coursed through her as she tried to run, but there was no where to go. The FBI agent had her pinned and Harding stood laughing at her screams.

 

Stormtrooper TX-563 had a headache and his feet hurt. He had been on watch for 13 hours and needed the ‘fresher, which is why, when TC-704 stepped into the Chimaera’s maximum-security cell block he was relieved in more ways than just one.

“Captain.” 563 nodded.

“Trooper.” Dizon acknowledged.

“Didn’t know you had access.” 563 looked over at the squad’s leader.

“Commander Klary read me in.” Dizon shrugged.

“Great. Welcome to hell. 797 should be here in thirteen hours. Hope you’re good at entertaining yourself.” The stormtrooper snorted.

“I’ll be fine.” Dizon said drily, “Go empty your armor.”

“Will do.”

And with that, TX-563 exited the otherwise empty detention area. Captain Arton Dizon immediately began scrolling through the logs at the console. Obviously Klary and company wouldn’t be advertising it if they were holding the Grand Admiral prisoner in his own ship, but still…Suddenly the door to the detention block hissed open and Dizon snapped his E-11 blaster up.

Dr. Yermentic raised her hands in surrender, “At ease, soldier,” she said drily.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Did you find anything?” Yermentic came up alongside him and peered over his shoulder.

“They aren’t going to have a giant garish sign that says, ‘We committed treason, get your proof here!” Dizon growled.

Yermentic snorted, “I’ll just start looking then?”

“We don’t have an escape plan!” Dizon hissed.

“We don’t need a kriffing escape plan. As soon as the crew sees Thrawn, they’ll come back to their senses.”

Dizon slammed his hand down on the console and stood to his full height which wasn’t much taller than Yermentic.

“With all due respect, Doctor, you’ve been a little out of touch. The crew thinks Thrawn abandon them. As far as they’re concerned, he can rot in all Nine Hells for marooning them out here, leading them into thinking they could go home and then turning back at the last minute only to maroon them again.”

Yermentic opened her mouth to argue but Dizon held his hand up to cut her off.

“If the crew sees him, they won’t give him time to explain. They’ll just put him right back where we found him.” Dizon snapped.

Yermentic glared at the stormtrooper, “So what do you propose?”

Dizon sighed.

_I don’t have a kriffing clue!_

“We need to get him out and stash him somewhere.”

Yermentic’s forehead wrinkled, “Sorry Trooper, I haven’t carried a personal handbag with me in years.”

Dizon rolled his head back and waved his arms in exasperation. No wonder this woman was the Chief Medical Officer. There was ample reason to stay well and healthy if it meant you didn’t have to deal with her.

“Armor! We’ll put him in stormtrooper armor!” he ground out.

“Oh. Sorry.” Yermentic smiled, “That’s still not something I have in a handbag!”

Again, Dizon shook his head, “I’ll get it, but first let’s find him. This whole discussion is for a conduit worm’s rear if he’s not even on the Chimaera.”

“He’s here or he better be. If he’s not, I’ll kill him.” Yermentic growled.

 

He sat against the wall. The coolness on his skin gave him some relief. The after effects of the last “interview” had finally cleared and he was able to think more clearly.

_Elinor._

He had only one fear, now. It was not of pain or of dying.

His one fear was forgetting her. Her face, her voice, the way she was completely uninhibited with him but had been closed off to the rest of the world around her.

She had given herself to him. He would never forget her…It didn’t matter how many drugs Bastilis pumped into him or how they made his mind play each scene with her over and over again, but with a distorted twist to suit his captor’s needs.

He could never forget her.

_Would_ never forget her

The clinking noise near the cell door indicated it was likely time for mid-day meal, although he wouldn’t rule out the possibility of someone coming to taunt him. He flexed his arm and leg muscles carefully.

He hadn’t given up hope of escape, in fact several of the stormtroopers guarding him had started to become lackadaisical. He had noted their patterns and believed overpowering one would be possible given the correct circumstances.

_Perhaps…_

The cell block door to his left opened and in stepped the stormtrooper – a stormtrooper, he instantly corrected himself. This man was slightly shorter than the other four but more muscular. The trooper stopped upon seeing him and swore colorfully.

He felt his eyebrows raise in slight amusement.

“Doctor!”

He let out a barely perceptible growl in the back of his throat.

_Bastilis._

The pounding of running feet. Too quick and heavy to be the monster he was familiar with. The stormtrooper moved aside and the Chimaera’s Chief Medical Officer stepped into his cell.

“Grand Admiral!”

His brow furrowed, “Tabitha?” he rasped.

“Grand Admiral! I’m very disappointed in you!” Yermentic began to cry in relief, “You’re late for your annual biometric screening.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi,
> 
> Still working on Part III - making some progress. Slow progress.
> 
> For some strange reason Part I and Part II just popped out and parts of Part III are in my mind but getting Part III completely out is like getting a root canal.


	37. On The Brink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning:  
> Strong Language, Violent Imagery
> 
> In This Chapter:  
> When the lady is mad...  
> Harding on the way to the Chimaera  
> Whittland doesn't like surprises  
> The wildlife doesn't care  
> Claire is 9issed off  
> Much better than Dr. Savona  
> Welcome back Captain!  
> There's a screw loose...  
> Yermentic with the save  
> Good Samaritans are always welcome!  
> Klary and Harding ask for some help  
> Pull to the north  
> Thrawn: divide and conquer?  
> Nothing!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

Major Cran, Lieutenant Commander Pyrondi and their Jedi killjoy returned to the hotel with three bags of Tabasco sauce and a tub of Country Crock. Although she normally had sticks of the stuff, the Imperials were convinced Elinor could easily pour her “marinade” into the tub and eat it with a spoon.

It would be less disgusting for everyone involved.

Cran and Pyrondi had wanted to stay out and do some more surveillance of the area, but Ezra had insisted on returning to check on their pregnant charge. In fact, the young Jedi was freakishly twitchy and was elusive when asked about his reasons.

The two Imperials understood _why_ , when they got back to the hotel.

Pyrondi banged on Cran and Ezra’s door, shouting. The Major darted from the kitchenette to let her in and she charged toward the young Jedi.

“What the kriff?” Pyrondi held up the paper.

Ezra took it and read the scribbled handwritten note.

“Is _this_ why you were so anxious to get back?” she screamed.

“I-I didn’t know she was gone. I felt something was…off, though.” Ezra winced at his own assessment.

“And _what_ in the Nine Hells does that mean?” Pyrondi shot back.

Cran finished studying the note and motioned for the Lieutenant Commander to calm down, “Look, she left an address, let’s just go and get her.”

“Fine!” She snapped, “But I’m not happy with you!” she jabbed a finger at Ezra and stormed out the door toward their SUV.

Ezra looked bewilderedly up at Cran who rolled his eyes and shrugged, “Lesson number one kid: When the lady is _mad_ , the lady is _right_.”

 

Harding was on his way to one of the transports the Imperials used to hull supplies up to the Chimaera, with Grand Admirals plaque in hand. The other prize would be along shortly, Whittland would make sure the child was born safely and, if all went well, there would be little use for either of her parents.

Harding would have his ship _and_ someone to take him where ever the hell he wanted to go; Imperials be damned.

 

Doug Whittland had pushed her into the back of his black SUV – it was eerily similar to the one she, Ezra, Pyrondi and Cran had used to flee the area. She found herself hunched over in pain as the tiny being inside her kicked and pushed forcefully against her ribs and back.

The FBI agent had also grabbed Dr. Phillips and had shoved him roughly into the front seat as the man stammered and pleaded for his release and personal safety.

“Honestly, honestly I don’t know why you need me! She’s several weeks off!” He rambled, “now, now you – you- you know aliens aren’t real. She was probably knocked up by her biker boyfriend after tak-“

“Shut up!” Whittland screamed at him.

Elinor almost thanked him but decided she didn’t want to be on his side of anything. The pain in her back was beginning to intensify. Whittland started to drive out of the city as the doctor continued his nervous chatter.

“Listen, listen, sir…I’m I’m - not really a _real_ doctor.” Phillips said, “I’m just a-a -a con artist really, it’s really a joke, sort of.”

“What the hell are you talkin’ about?” Whittland glanced over at the “doctor.”

“Really really, I flunked out of medical school and I – I – I only have a bachelors degree in sociology.”

Whittland grabbed the man by the back of his neck and shook him furiously; hurling expletives. She had stopped listening though, focusing more on her breathing.

Ezra had told her to focus on her breathing during meditation and that’s what she needed to do. Ellie was finding it difficult though, the pain had lessened only to return, making her feel sick to her stomach.

She frowned. Maybe if she could buy herself some time, she could call for help or make a run for it. She was certain Whittland was working outside the bounds of the FBI right now, maybe she could turn herself over to Caglioni instead.

A swishing flutter inside of her cause her stomach to clench but instead of suppressing it she relaxed.

 

Thirty miles outside of Uptown the wildlife near the country highway, parallel to the river was briefly disturbed by squealing tires as a large black SUV breaked suddenly and pulled to the side of the deserted road. Two men got out hastily, one screaming and swearing, the other covering his nose and mouth, looking extremely ill. The angry man opened the back door to the vehicle and motioned for a pregnant woman to come out.

As she did, she vomited on the pavement at his feet prompting another string of curses. The woman leaned up against the back of the SUV and continued to heave as the two men paced the side of the road trying their best to ignore her.

The wildlife ignored it all.

 

Cran, Pyrondi and Ezra walked into the small foul-smelling front office. They looked around and then at each other. This was the address she had left them.

Wasn’t it?

There was a rustle of papers and Cran moved to a defensive position, Ezra carefully unhooked his lightsaber and Pyrondi stepped forward.

“Hello?” she called.

“What!” screamed a woman’s voice, “Back for more?”

Pyrondi shot Cran a look just as the woman, dressed completely in black stormed to the front desk and looked through the sliding glass window.

“We’re looking for our friend. She’s pregnant.” Ezra moved to the Imperial’s side. This prompted a sour look from Pyrondi but she didn’t say anything.

“This ain’t a real fucking doctor’s office! That prick _lied_ to me! I’m a true believer – He ain’t even a real fucking doc-“

“Our friend’s in trouble. Her name is Elinor; she was here.” Ezra interjected.

“Oh yeah! Rick’s friend! He’ll never forgive me! Some FBI guy and a sleaze ball took her away, along with that shit-for-brains Philips!”

“How long ago?” Cran barked.

The woman in black shrugged, “Fifteen minutes, give or take”

“Any idea where they were going?”

She grunted, deflating slightly, “They kept talking about something like the Kibera or something like that.”

“Chimaera?”

“Yeah, that!”

All three turned and ran out the door as the woman yelled after them, “Hey you gunna arrest that motherfucker for impersonating a doctor? I’ll testify!”

 

George Harding’s transport shuttle landed in the docking bay of the Chimaera, once again it was a bumpy right. The engineers and technicians aboard the ship still had not gotten the tractor beam functional and so the pilot had to, once again jostle the smaller ship into the Star Destroyer’s maw.

The crew’s failure to perform would be corrected shortly, Harding was sure. Perhaps they were demoralized, perhaps they didn’t believe their precious Grand Admiral had left them; regardless they would toe the line once he had the Chimaera.

He strode down the ramp and was met by Commander Klary. She looked sullenly at him as he smiled widely in triumph.

“Commander” He beamed, “I come bearing gifts!”

“I don’t see Dr. Savona.” Klary commented cynically, “Has she engineered herself invisible?”

Harding decided to let the acerbic comment go.

“No, she’ll be along soon. In the mean time I have something better.”

He held up the Grand Admiral’s rank plaque, warped to fit Elinor Savona’s wrist. Klary looked at it for a moment and then a slow smile brightened her hardened features.

“You’re right, Mr. Harding. If I understand your thought process, that’s _much_ better than Dr. Savona.”

 

Dizon had used the release code at the front console to remove the Grand Admiral’s restraints and the Chiss was able to stand to his full height. Yermentic assessed him hastily as the stormtrooper captain stood watch.

“What in the hells happened?” Yermentic whispered.

“Mutiny.”

“I figured that out all by myself, sir.” The doctor glanced down at the wounds at his wrists and ankles where the cuffs had rubbed into his skin.

“I will explain further, once we reach the surface.”

Yermentic stopped short, “What?”

“I intend to travel down to the planet.” Thrawn repeated.

“If it were anyone but you, I’d put you back in the cuffs and close the door. With all do respect, sir… _What the kriff_?”

Thrawn sighed, “To keep the Chimaera out of enemy hands, I must ensure the safety of a… _valuable asset_.”

“Oh? Well, shall we take the Lambda or the troop transport and would you care for Forvish ale during your trip or would a good Corellian brew suit you better?”

“Enough! I will do this! With or without your assistance.” Thrawn snapped.

“Grand Admiral, you must understand the situation - the entire ship thinks you deserted!” Yermentic gritted her teeth.

Just then, Dizon stormed into the cell, “We have mid-day meal coming in!”

“Tell them, he’s not hungry!” Yermentic snarled.

“Fine.” Dizon growled back.

A moment later a slight thump followed by a crash could be heard down the passageway and the Captain came back dragging a crewman wearing mess hall garb.

“That’s strange.” Dizon took off his helmet and looked at the doctor and Grand Admiral, “There’s a lot more food than just one prison would normally eat.”

Yermentic and Thrawn looked at each other.

_Pellaeon and the bridge officers._

Thrawn nodded once, “Captain, would you please continue searching the remaining cells in this block?”

Dizon smiled tightly, “Yes, sir!”

In the end there were five plus Gilad Pellaeon.

The old captain was beside himself with relief at seeing his commanding officer alive; never having believed the Grand Admiral would desert. He did not need vindication for his loyalty, but it was comforting to know he had it, nonetheless.

The mutineers aboard his ship would pay dearly.

 

Elinor braced herself against the car, her stomach churning and chest heaving. She gulped for air as best she could, trying desperately to stop the flutter of nausea from taking over again. After she had vomited all over the back seat, Whittland had stopped alongside the road to let her out to continue releasing the contents of her stomach.

If she could just buy herself more time. Time for what she didn’t know; maybe to escape, maybe for Ezra or Cran and Pyrondi to find her?

_You’re in trouble, Elinor!_

She leaned up against the back of the car near the gas tank trembling. Her fingers brushed the square outline of the gas cap cover and a thought formed in her mind.

Whittland would be furious. What form would his wrath take, she didn’t know, but it might just be worth the risk if it would gain her more time.

She clawed at the cover and felt it give, then slowly carefully unscrewed the gas cap. Ellie continued to make terrible retching noises to ensure some level of privacy; it was obvious the men traveling with her did not do well with stomach excretions.

She carefully slid her necklace off and began to pull at the washers, nuts, bolts and screws the Chimaera’s engineers had wired onto the chain. She slipped them through the metal flap usually reserved for the hose snout of a gas pump. Elinor reserved one screw for the back-passenger side tire, she shoved it forcefully in between the treads making sure it would spear the tire upon moving forward.

After all, engineers loved defense in depth.

 

The stormtrooper captain had gone to several different stations and requested new armor for this squad member or that squad member. His requests on their behalf were due to this reason or that. TX-563 had been ill, TX-601 was in remediation over poor marksmanship, etc.

Eventually after traveling to multiple armories aboard the Chimaera to avoid attracting too much attention, Dizon was able to get seven full sets of stormtrooper armor, but his thirteen-hour shift in the high security detention block was almost done and he needed to move quickly.

Four of the officers, the Captain and Grand Admiral donned the stormtrooper armor; some of which was extremely poor fitting, while the fifth officer had stripped down the crewman from the mess hall and emptied the food trays of their contents. They stashed the spare set of armor behind the food trays on the mess hall lift. The group was just about ready to leave the cell block when a stormtrooper entered the detention area.

Yermentic ducked hastily behind the console to avoid being spotted.

“Hey what’s all this?” TX-797 asked.

“I was read in.” Dizon said as casually as if TX-797 had asked him what color the walls were.

“I didn’t hear about it.”

“You writin’ a holodrama?” the stormtrooper Captain asked sardonically

“The Commander said we’d be briefed together.” 797 persisted.

DIzon shrugged, “Don’t look at me. I’ve been standing here for thirteen hours, I just wanna hit the mess and the rack. You’re supposed to be up next, right?”

“So, what are they doing here?” 797 asked motioning to the six other stormtroopers and the mess hall attendant.

“I was told to read them in, the mess hall attendant just finished picking up what was left of the slop. Got any more questions before I overfill my armor?”

TX-797 stared at Dizon for a long moment and then motioned to the six troopers, “Take ‘em off boys.”

“Huh?” Dizon asked.

“Take off your head gear” TX-797 growled.

There was stony silence and each of the six troopers reached up to take their helmets off. The stormtrooper, TX-797 was already pointing his blaster at the tallest of the six, as if sensing he was the biggest threat. Perhaps it was the way the others stood relative to him, reverently aware of him; slightly protective even.

The smirk was obvious by the man’s voice, “Well, well, off for a stroll, Grand Admiral,” the stormtrooper taunted.

The Chiss’s expressionless features took in the trooper and the blaster pointed at his chest, “Perhaps. Perhaps not.”

There was a brief twitch from Dizon and the other stormtrooper shifted slightly, “Careful Captain, don’t want your pet alien getting burned. It would be a damn sha-“

There was another rustle but this time from behind him and the stormtrooper’s final mistake was to turn his head slightly to the side to augment his peripheral vision.

A syringe was plunged into the other side of the man’s neck, in between his helmeted head and the hard shoulder and chest armor meant to protect him from blaster fire. The thick black protective clothing covering the man’s collar was no match for Yermentic’s needle and he collapse without so much as a shot fired.

The doctor stared down at the man in horror and then schooled her features before looking up at the others, “Can we please go? I have bacta to steal!”

 

Whittland had herded Dr. Philips back into the front seat first and then he came for Elinor. He grabbed her roughly by the upper arm and pulled her to the other side of the SUV, flinging her against the car and demanding she get into the backseat.

She complied and situated herself as best she could to avoid the vomit. Whittland started the car and put it in drive and slammed on the gas; spraying gravel behind in his quest to make up the time lost due to her pregnancy woes. Her baby was still kicking furiously at her insides, but her internals had seemed to adjust to the beating – there was still the pain though.

It did not take long for the tiny pieces of metal to become lodged in the fuel line, causing cavitation of the pumping system. Elinor smiled softly. She had only seen the after effects of cavitation – the system had lost net positive suction head and the pump exploded spectacularly spraying bits of itself all over. A car engine would work the same, but it would be less dramatic and on a smaller scale.

There was a satisfying pop and noxious smoke wafted from the hood of the SUV. Ellie had never heard “fuck” used so often and so descriptively in a single monologue.

Whittland jumped out of the vehicle and opened the hood quickly determining it was likely an engine issue; also hearing at the same time the hissing of escaping air. Stalking to the rear of the SUV, he found the back-passenger side tire quickly losing air – the side of the car Elinor Savona had spent most of her time.

In blind rage, he circled around to the other side, opened the back door and grabbed the pregnant woman by her arm. She fell out of the car, landing awkwardly on the pavement, crying out in pain. He was about to start beating the daylights out of her when a little red pickup truck could be seen making its way toward them.

 

Doug Whittland knew he had to keep what he was doing hush-hush. The Bureau could never know about his arrangement with Harding.

He had to get Elinor Savona someplace where she’d have her kid – the squirrel of a doctor was supposed to help with that. Once the freak child was born, he was told to kill her and the doctor, take the kid and give it to some guy named Bastilis who would be waiting for him.

Now that the bitch had fucked up the car, it looked like she was going to go into labor right on the side of the road. The doctor, who wasn’t a doctor, would likely be worthless.

That was fine by Whittland, he didn’t care if he had to cut the kid out of her, just so long as he got what he wanted in the end, and what he wanted was to just continue living a simple uncomplicated life. Cards, booze and women.

How complicated was that?

Things got complicated, though when Randy and his mother Betsy pulled up on the opposite side of the road to help.

“Hey y’all be needin’ some help?”

“Uh, yes sir. I seem to be having some engine trouble.” Whittland said hesitantly.

“Huh, well, lemme take a look. Name’s Randy by the way.” Randy offered his hand to Whittland.

“Uh, I’m Arther.” Whittland decided to be cautious.

“This ’s my ma, Betsy.”

Whittland nodded to her, “ma’am.”

Betsy giggled and waved. Randy strutted over to the front of the car and noticed Elinor, “Huh, tha’ there yer wife?”

“Yeah, that’s her. Her name is Mary. I got my father-in-law in the car too.” Whittland leaned in close to Randy as if conveying a secret to a buddy, “he’s not very well in the head, if you know what I mean.”

“Gotcha.” Randy bobbed his head then looked over at Elinor again, “How far ‘long are ya ma’am?”

“I’m in labor.”

Randy jerked in surprised, “Well heck, we need ta git ya ta a hospital then!”

Whittland shot his “wife” a venomous look, “I think you’re being a bit nervous sweetheart, don’t _you_?”

“No, _darling_. I’m going to have the baby on the side of the road and at this rate, it’s likely to be _blue_!”

At this, Randy whistled to Betsy, “Yo, ma. Kin Mary sit in our truck fer a bit while Art an’ I look at this here engine?”

“Of course!” Betsy chimed as she motioned the pregnant woman over across the road.

 

Greta Klary and George Harding entered the Grand Admiral’s former office with Commander Dalen Tela, the Chimaera’s Head Engineer. Klary had requested Tela mostly because the Head Engineer had been extremely impressed with Elinor Savona.

He, as well as most of the engineers and techs, had been dejected when the Grand Admiral was insistent she return to the planet below. If Tela had his way, Elinor would still be aboard and there was no love between Engineering and the Grand Admiral over the loss of the Chimaera’s former Head Engineer.

Tela’s discretion would be long enough to get the ship underway, after which Klary didn’t care much what he or anyone else thought.

“Commander,” Tela nodded to her. “You requested my assistance?”

“Yes Dalen. We have something the Grand Admiral left that may be helpful in getting the Chimaera up and running again.” Klary smiled reassuringly.

Tela’s eyes shifted to Harding. Sensing the other man’s uncertainty, Harding nodded to him, “My name is George Harding, I’m an old friend of Elinor’s. She spoke highly of you.”

The Head Engineer’s eyes lit up, “How is she?”

Harding pulled at the ripple of warmth the man felt for Savona.

“We’re hoping to find her. She’s been missing.” Harding’s voice was sad, pleading.

“What!? Since when? Is that why the Grand Admiral left!?” Tela looked between Harding and Klary.

“We’re not sure Tela, but what we want you to help us with might assist in finding her.” Klary soothed.

“Of course.”

Klary nodded to Harding, who produced the rank plaque from his jacket pocket. The engineer sucked in a breath.

“He gave that to her…I saw it. When she left…he loved her.”

“We need you to open it” Harding urged.

Tela frowned, “If it’s a standard plaque there will just be a link to a comm system in it.”

“Still, we need to check Dalen.” Klary smiled warmly.

Tela sighed. “Alright. Let me get my tools.”

 

Crissa Pyrondi insisted she drive.

Cran and Ezra were not about to argue, but Ezra felt the strange pull to go north. He mentioned this to the Lieutenant Commander and she grunted as she turned on to the older road leading through a heavily wooded area with ample wildlife. Elinor was in trouble, her fear almost palpable through the Force – her fear and that of her daughter.

The child was _ready_ , and Elinor was in grave danger.

 

Dr. Yermentic entered sick bay with a small squad of stormtroopers and informed medic Jenson that they needed their annual biometric readings. Jenson looked bewildered and embarrassed.

Normally nothing fell through the cracks and it was upsetting to the younger woman that the CMO had found something she’d missed.

“I do apologize again Doctor. I would have bet the Emperor’s treasure I had finished all of the readings for this quarter.”

“Don’t worry about it, Mira,” She told Jenson. “These things happen all the time. It’s a big ship, after all.”

The medic apologized profusely another three times and left the doctor to perform her exams, at which point Yermentic sighed shakily and gave the tallest stormtrooper an expectant look.

“Orders, Admiral?”

“You will procure bacta, four packs should be sufficient I think, as well as anything you deem useful for post-delivery and neonatal care.” He turned abruptly to one of the other armored figures.

“Captain Dizon, you and the others will ensure we have a suitable transport. There is likely at least one in the hanger bay due to recent traffic from the surface. Captain Pellaeon and I will retrieve several useful items from my office.”

He turned back to Yermentic, “The Captain and I will return here when we have completed our errand. We will make our way to the hanger bay together. Is the tractor beam functioning?”

Dizon shook his head, “No, sir. Engineering hasn’t gotten around to dealing with it.”

“Good.” Even the com in the stormtrooper helmet could not cover the obvious pleasure in the Grand Admiral’s voice. He waited briefly for questions from the small assembly but there were none.

“Captain Dizon, good hunting to you.”

 

The tool clicked. The sound was almost too faint to hear but Harding had been waiting for it and to him, it sounded better than any symphony, sonata or concerto ever written by any of the greatest composers.

It was the sound of victory.

Tela grunted and moved the tiny hook-like fixture away from the Grand Admiral’s rank plaque, then using a different hook – slightly larger – with what appeared to be a suction piece on the point, he lifted the face plate away. For a moment Harding wasn’t quite sure what he was seeing, Klary on the other hand gasped.

He stepped closer to the Head Engineer to get a better look, risking grabbing the man’s shoulder to move him aside. Harding stared.

_At nothing._

“There’s nothing there.” Klary’s voice sounded hollow.

Tela shrugged, “Were you expecting to find coordinates for the Katana fleet?”

Harding pushed the two Imperials away from the dissected bit of metal and picked it up studying it. Indeed, there was nothing hidden behind the plate of red, blue and gold tiles. He could feel the iciness of his anger bubble up within him like a black cloud as Klary and Tela argued behind him.

It was a useful tool – his anger – it was powerful and could get him farther, faster. He intended to use it.

He grabbed what remained of the plaque, turned and marched out of the Klary’s office.

It was time to pay the illustrious Grand Admiral a visit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!
> 
> Nothing!?!?!?!?!?! Nothing behind those tiles of red, blue and gold?????
> 
> Yep.. Nothing there...gotta wait for Part III.
> 
> Here's something though: I'm not entirely certain putting a bunch of metal bits in a gas tank will cause the engine to seize so quickly - it would likely take some time. I have seen several pumps lose net positive suction and boy oh boy is it nasty! The thing basically eats itself. ((shiver)) Makes the engineer in me want to puke. 
> 
> The next chapter was a bit traumatizing for me to write...it's not easy to kill a character.
> 
> Off to gargle with ginger ale. might mix with alcohol.


	38. Captain's Prerogative

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning:  
> Character Death, Violence, Author Self Hatred
> 
> In This Chapter:  
> Dizon finds a shuttle.  
> Stormtrooper armor is itchy.  
> Keeping the shuttle secure  
> Pay raise may not be required  
> Harding underestimates Klary and...  
> ...finds out someone went missing  
> Pellaeon's loyalty  
> Off to Outfitting  
> Showdown with Bastilis - Smile  
> Let him try  
> Which blaster setting?  
> Back in uniform  
> Shot in the back  
> Klary heads to the hanger bay  
> Don't turn your back on Dizon  
> Pull switch  
> "Not anymore"  
> I am sorry

 

Captain Dizon marched the five officers dressed in stormtrooper attire down to the observation deck. From there it would be easy to determine what their options were for transports.

Thrawn had been right. Apparently, there was quite a bit of traffic to and from the planet because a shuttle had just landed in the hanger bay as the group entered the deck.

The stormtrooper captain caught his breath when he saw Commander Klary walk up to the bottom of the shuttle’s ramp and wait. Her body stance indicating annoyance and disdain for the person coming toward her. As far as Dizon was concerned, whom ever aggravated Klary was likely to be better than a traitorous mutineer like her.

He changed his mind quickly.

“Kriff me.”

“Excuse me?” one of the officers asked from behind his stormtrooper helmet, sounding appalled – What, like officer’s didn’t curse?

“It’s Martin Tassi. What in Palpatine’s name is he doing here?”

The other man’s expression was hidden, though he said nothing and only shrugged.

Dizon watched as the vile creature who had once assaulted Elinor Savona spoke with Klary. The two knew each other for certain, and after several exchanges the Commander’s body language seemed to relax. Tassi too seemed pleased but then again, the smug bastard always seemed pleased with himself, as Dizon recalled.

The two walked briskly away from the hanger and the idle shuttle…A shuttle that was already warmed for flight, and hypothetically had a pre-established approach vector back to the planet.

 

Gilad Pellaeon knew that stormtrooper armor was not exactly comfortable, but he didn’t know that it was so damn _uncomfortable_. He did his best, but try as he may, he could not stop readjusting the shoulder padding. Thrawn on the other hand, simply stood indifferent to the annoying itch of the lining under the heavy armor as the two rode in the turbolift.

“If we get back to Imperial space sir, I wish to request a raise in pay for the Chimaera’s stormtrooper divisions.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, sir.” Pellaeon confirmed, “These things are damned intolerable.”

Thrawn made a noise which sounded suspiciously like a laugh, but the Captain had never really heard the man do more than chuckle slightly.

“I will consider your request, Captain.”

 

Dizon and his team waited on the observation deck surveying the crewmen in the area. There was nothing out of the ordinary. No preparations to receive another shuttle or transport were underway nor was there large-scale movement of boxes or crates. It was likely this was going to be their only shot.

He motioned his “squad” to advance and hoped that the officers under the armor knew enough to look intimidating. Nothing drew attention like a skittish Imperial stormtrooper.

The Captain ascended the ramp and headed toward the cockpit. His advance was stopped however, by an arrogant core-world accent.

“Where do you think, you’re going, Trooper?”

Dizon sighed.

_Great._

“I’ve received orders, sir.” He turned to find a Lieutenant standing behind one of the other stormtroopers, “Commander Klary, requested we secure the shuttle prior to its departure.”

The Lieutenant made a face, “I didn’t hear anything about it. She and Mr. Harding are busy, and I won’t risk bothering them to confirm your order. I am more than capable of ensuring the safety of this vessel.”

_Mr. Harding?_

“I’m sure you won’t mind _Lieutenant_ , if we assist you in your watch?” Dizon put an edge to his voice.

As a Captain, he technically outranked this nerf runt, but stormtroopers were always considered a tertiary part of any operation and so the condescension was, on a good day, implied.

After the briefest of pauses, the Lieutenant acquiesced, “I suppose that would be acceptable, but this is Mr. Harding’s shuttle. I expect he’ll be using it again soon.”

“We’ll make sure it’s nice and secure for him, then.”

 

George Harding had stormed out of Grand Admiral Thrawn’s old office. Seven seconds later Greta Klary and Dalen Tela exited, Klary was running after Harding cursing under her breath and Tela made his way back to Deck 17 to the Engineering lab. Twenty-two seconds after that, two stormtroopers turned the corner entering the hall, marching purposefully to the Grand Admiral’s office.

The guard on duty nodded once, the taller of the two stormtroopers nodded back and without warning grabbed the man’s Blast-Tech E-11 and punched him.

Hard.

Despite the thick helmet, the blow had caught the guard under the chin; there was a crunch indicating the man’s jaw likely broke. The disguised Grand Admiral swept the trooper’s leg and the guard fell back, remaining still.

“Perhaps I was too quick to think of a pay increase,” Captain Pellaeon looked down at the unconscious man.

Thrawn advanced to the door, finding the wall panel next to it, he entered his command code and the door hissed open. Immediately he raised the blaster he had taken from the guard, but it was unwarranted. The office was empty.

He motioned for Pellaeon, and the Captain helped him drag the injured trooper into the office, closing and locking the door behind him.

 

“What makes you think that Thrawn will give you the final access key, after all this?” Klary growled.

Harding was finding it difficult to deal with the Imperial Commander’s ever-increasing level of stupidity. Of course, he had to remind himself that Klary didn’t _feel_ the Grand Admiral’s response to his goading about his former lover. She hadn’t _felt_ the man’s guilt and fear for Elinor and the tiny being she had growing in her womb. Harding had felt it, used it and relished it.

And he was going to use it again, but this time with evidence that even a Chiss could not argue with. He would drag the woman in front of him and provide him with the final ultimatum: The Chimaera or Elinor Savona.

Of course, men like Thrawn required thought and in his current damaged state, the more the better. The rank plaque would serve as evidence enough until Savona could give birth down on the ground. The last thing he needed was an Imperial like Klary trying to lay claim to the ultimate prize.

“He’ll have no other choice, if he wants to protect Elinor Savona and the child.” He called over his shoulder as he made his way to the detention level.

“Surely Thrawn understands how useful the child would be to us and knows we wouldn’t risk harming Elinor because of it. He still gains time.” Klary growled at him as she struggled to keep up with his pace.

Harding smiled tightly, “Ah Commander, you forget, Chiss have a very high metabolism!”

Klary made a tutting noise in the back of her throat, obviously tired of playing guessing games and trying to reason her way out of Harding’s little schemes. He sighed contentedly.

“Savona is full term and is currently in labor on the surface below.”

“What!?” the outrage in Klary’s voice was evident, “She needs to be transported up here immediately.”

Harding stopped suddenly and turned, but Klary already had her blaster at the ready and pushed up under his chin, “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing. I’ve seen you in action. Just because you changed your name from Tassi to Harding doesn’t mean Bantha spit to me.”

Harding allowed himself a slight smile. Clearly, he underestimated this one.

_No matter._

“Tell your man, down on the surface to bring Elinor Savona up or he’ll be looking for a new employer.” She nudged him with the barrel of the weapon.

“Of course, Commander,” he said soothingly. “Can we first inform the Grand Admiral of his impending fatherhood?”

Klary’s eyes narrowed, “Fine. But as soon as you’re done _congratulating_ him, I want you on the comm.”

Harding nodded and turned to continue on his way to the maximum-security block of the detention level, but as soon as he entered the feeling of wrongness was palpable. Klary could even sense it, she drew her weapon again, but this time stepped in front of him to take point.

“Where’s the guard?’ Harding asked quietly.

“That’s my question, as well.” Klary hurriedly made her way to the cell where Thrawn was being kept, she scanned the area cautiously, but Harding’s sense that something was amiss intensified, and he darted past her. She hissed a warning, but he ignored he; coming to a quick halt at the cell door he slammed his palm on the release.

The door slid open to an empty cell.

If it were a physical thing, George Harding’s fury would have manifested itself as a shock wave, rocking the entire Chimaera; it’s echoes being felt all the way down to the planet below.

 

The Grand Admiral had a significant store of weaponry in his personal dojo which Pellaeon was to avail himself of. Thrawn had gone into his quarters to retrieve several things and to “verify the condition of several personal items.” The Captain didn’t question him but instead busied himself with packing blaster carbines in a duffle. So enthralled was he, to find several old Clone Wars style Toprawan pistols he didn’t see the figure in Mandalorian armor enter the room.

“Captain.” The figure acknowledged.

Pellaeon jumped causing the annoying padding under his stormtrooper armor near his shoulder blades to bunch again.

_Damn._

“Ah, sir!”

Thrawn grabbed one of the combat batons hanging from a rack on the wall, “Do we have sufficient weaponry?”

“I believe so, sir.” Pellaeon nodded with a small smile. In truth there was probably enough in the duffle to occupy a small Earth city.

“Good. I suggest we proceed to Outfitting. We do not wish to attract attention to ourselves on the surface.” Thrawn gestured for the other to follow.

As they exited what was once the Grand Admiral’s office, Pellaeon resisted the urge to ask Thrawn how he would manage to conceal his identity without being so conspicuous. As far as he could tell, the general population of the planet didn’t walk around in Mandalorian armor. Perhaps the most important thing was to keep his face hidden but to make him recognizable to Elinor Savona.

The poor woman must be going through all Hells.

Before the mutiny the Grand Admiral had agonized over what to do - Leave her and their child in some neutral location outside of Imperial space or take them both back with him to the Empire and risk them getting caught up in whatever punishment Palpatine had in store for him. Thrawn knew logically Elinor and the baby couldn’t stay here. He also knew _he_ couldn’t stay here – every one of them had taken an oath.

Frankly, Pellaeon’s loyalty tended more toward Thrawn himself than the Imperial system in general. The Grand Admiral’s leadership was unsullied by corruption, he lacked the insatiable taste for power so many people in high command seemed to possess and he truly saw the bigger picture when it came to the defense of the Empire.

That was something to _fight_ for.

_Someone_ to fight for.

How Klary managed to stir up a mutiny was beyond Pellaeon – it must have been purely based in ignorance on the crew’s part.

Thrawn abruptly turned to the Captain, jarring him out of his thoughts, “Please proceed to Outfitting, Captain. I will take the weaponry and meet you in sick bay.”

“Yes, sir.” Pellaeon nodded.

 

Yermentic had finished packing everything she thought she would need and was putting the last pack of bacta in the duffle when she heard the soft footfall behind her. She turned expecting to see two stormtroopers – but was unpleasantly surprised. The CMO schooled her expression but a stray flash of annoyance was caught by the beady eyed bastard.

Dr. Bastilis slowly assessed the scene, taking in the duffle and the bacta packs. His expression was lazily predatorial.

“Hello Doctor,” He said softly.

“Dr. Bastilis,” she nodded curtly. “What can I do for you?”

“Perhaps it is I who should ask you, as you seem to be…taking a trip.”

Yermentic snorted, “I hear Scarif is lovely this time of year, but no. I pack an emergency duffle if I am called on off hours outside of sick bay.”

_Smooth, Tabitha._

“An excellent idea.” Bastilis cocked his head to the side, “How do you keep the bacta packs fresh?”

“I have a refrigeration unit in my quarters.”

_Eat dung, fool!_

“I find your idea, quite inspiring Doctor.” Bastilis looked anything but inspired, “May I look to see what you have in your bag, so I might pack my own.”

As he was speaking, he crept closer to where the duffle sat on an examination table and before Yermentic could react –

“I’m sure you can make your own ba-“

Bastilis swiped the large bag and casually looked inside at its contents. The look of triumph was unmistakable even on a face that never smiled.

“How many crewmen would require Trewoloo Extract, Doctor?” Bastilis cocked his head in question.

“There have been several articles published about Wookie herbal oils for sore muscle.” Yermentic ground out.

His eyes flashed in anger, “Trewoloo is used mostly to help relieve pain during child birth. However, how many of the Chimaera’s crew are expecting, Doctor Yermentic?”

“We must make do where we can.” She hedged caustically.

Bastilis continued to study her; finally deciding on something, he put the bag down.

“This brings me no pleasure Doctor.” But despite his words, the CMO saw the man’s lips quirk upward as he produced a syringe from his coat pocket.

She blanched as she looked at the needle and then back at him, “W-What do you think you’re doing?”

“You are unwell. I’ll try to make it as painless as possible.” Bastilis said soothingly.

“Get away from me, with that!”

Bastilis advanced slowly, carefully. Looking almost bored with the idea of possibly ending the woman’s life. It would be easy, anti-climactic and dull. Nothing as exciting as an “interview”. Perhaps he could keep her for Klary – he could “interview” her later. Surely the Commander would want to know what Yermentic had been up to…

The brief moment of indecision was enough for a figure in Mandalorian armor to burst into the room with a combat baton drawn. The armored figure swept Bastilis’s knee with the baton.

“GO.” He ordered Yermentic.

_Thrawn._

She grabbed the duffle and ran. Bastilis was not to be taken out so easily however, from his prone position on the floor he hurled the syringe at the retreating Yermentic, but the armored figure was able to block it -just barely with his baton – the needle sliding useless away and stopping near the CMO. The lunge had put him perilously close to the man who had tortured him into a drug-induced stupor.

Bastilis produced another needle, this time launching himself at Thrawn, grabbing a hold of his leg like a rabid Nexu. Poised to drive the tip into the Grand Admiral’s leg, Yermentic screamed, tossing the syringe that Bastilis had flung at her, to the Chiss in disguise.

Thrawn caught it carefully, reached down, grabbed a fist full of the man’s hair just as he flung back his arm to slam his own needle into Thrawn’s leg, and emptied the contents of his syringe into the side of the man’s head. The arm that had drawn back to ram the needle into his calf, fell uselessly limp at the man’s side.

Bastilis toppled over, face ashen, eyes glassy, but he was finally smiling.

 

Harding struggled to calm himself, he was embarrassed to admit it.

Klary was already making calls to trusted personnel throughout the ship, informing them of a security breach. There wasn’t anyone on board he knew except the arrogant little upstart that Klary assigned to watch him. Lieutenant Rhyns was likely loitering near the shuttle waiting for his departure to the pla-

Harding’s thoughts broke off abruptly.

They would head to the hanger bay. Thrawn was going to make a break for the surface to rescue Elinor Savona.

_Let him try._

He called Rhyns’s commlink and the man answered crisply,

“Lieutenant, we have had a security breech and several prisoners have escaped the detention area of the ship. They will likely try to escape using a shuttle or transport.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Have you secured the shuttle we took from the surface?

“I believe I have, sir.” Rhyns answered.

“Good, I will be there as soon as possible to travel back down to the planet.”

“Yes sir.”

“The most important thing is that the prisoners do not escape the Chimaera”

“I understand, sir.”

Harding terminated the connection just as Klary shot an evil look at him, “You’re leaving, _now_?”

“Yes.” He replied evenly.

This only served to anger her even more, “Harding?” she growled.

“Getting a readied shuttle out of the hanger bay eliminates an option for escape, also I need to check on Dr. Savona’s… _progress_ , since you indicated she should be on board the ship when she gives birth. Something about taking possession of Imperial assets and such?”

“Fine. Leave, but bring Savona back with you. I’ll have my end wrapped up here by the time you get back. The intruder alarm will sound momentarily, and they’ll be found within minutes.”

“Excellent,” Harding could feel the stir of satisfaction in the pit of his stomach.

Thrawn’s unfortunate adventure through the ship was not his concern, he need only worry about Elinor Savona and the ultimate prize – the child that could plot his future.

 

Captain Dizon was getting tired of listening to Lieutenant Rhyns talk.

Really tired.

The man was arrogant and by the tone and tenor of his bravado he was quite pleased with the Chimaera’s new leadership, which was all fine and good by Dizon, it would make shooting the man so much easier. The question now was whether to set his blaster to stun or to conveniently forget.

He was still mulling it over when the Lieutenant got the call. The stormtrooper Captain couldn’t exactly hear what was said on the other end of the line but by the look on Rhyns’s face it was _not_ good. A shiver ran up Dizon’s spin.

Had the others been caught?

“Yes, sir… I believe I have sir…yes, sir…. I understand, sir.”

Rhyns disconnected his comm unit and sighed contentedly, “Did you know there were prisoners aboard the Chimaera?”

Dizon turned to look at Rhyns as casually as possible, “Yeah, so what?”

“Harding is very interested in these prisoners…some of them escaped apparently. They’re looking for them now and it’s likely they’ll try to commandeer a shuttle or transport down to the surface. Who knows, Captain? We may get commendations for stopping their escape.”

“Maybe.” Dizon smirked under his helmet.

He decided then what blaster setting to use.

“Maybe not.”

The stormtrooper captain raised his BlasTech E-11 and shot the Lieutenant as cleanly as possible. The limp form of the man landed with a thump on the floor of the shuttle cockpit.

 

Pellaeon made his way back to sick bay after gathering a change of clothes for everyone in the party. Of course, the Captain could only guess at sizing but as far as he was concerned, spacers tape holding two flim sheets together, would be better than stormtrooper armor.

Thrawn and Yermentic were relieved to see him and allowed him to change out of the miserable hard white shell into a standard olive-green tunic and pants. Putting the uniform on, felt like coming home. For months he had been wearing prison garb, then recently squeezed into stormtrooper casing. He was now where he belonged.

Back in Imperial uniform.

The trio made their way to the hanger bay just as the intruder alarm went off.

 

Dizon knew it was impossible to get out of this without making some sort of noise. He just wasn’t expecting the noise to be _that_ loud.

The intruder alarm sounded just as he and one of the officers – Lt. Commander Tobevoh – finished dragging the body of Lieutenant Rhyns down the ramp and stuffing him discretely in an empty crate to the side of the loading area.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement and noticed Yermentic, Pellaeon and Thrawn – clad in his Mandalorian armor walk briskly into the hanger bay. So, focused on their travel across the great expanse of the bay, was Dizon that he failed to notice the man he knew as Martin Tassi enter the bay behind him.

He caught the premonition of danger an eighth of a second too late. He dodged to his right, but it was no use. Tassi or Harding – whatever name he was using for himself – shot him from behind.

Arton Dizon’s grandmother once told him there was always some good in everything. There was something within every occurrence, no matter how bad it seemed at the time, that had some good come from it or showed there was some splendid luck in play. Young Arton would roll his eyes and call krayt spit under his breath.

However, in this case something fortunate and useful did happen.

Dizon had started moving just before Harding shot him so the shot that was meant to hit the stormtrooper captain squarely in between the shoulder blades as a kill shot grazed the man’s left shoulder instead. It was also useful in that it prompted his companions to take a defensive position behind several empty crates.

Harding, believing he had taken the group completely by surprise, advanced into the hanger bay, blaster blazing at the three Imperials hunkered down twenty meters shy of the shuttle ramp. The other stormtroopers in the shuttle were trying to lend their blasters into the fray to support Yermentic, Pellaeon and Thrawn but the angle was restrictive. They gathered together to create a point advance, however a squad of stormtroopers – _real_ stormtroopers - arrived from the same entrance Harding had and their very brief advantage in numbers was lost.

 

Klary had gotten the word that they were in the hanger bay and were being aided by Tabitha Yermentic and one of the Stormtrooper Captains. It didn’t matter, she charged to the bridge barking the order for the Ensign in the crew pit to remotely lock down the hanger bay. Upon the Ensign’s confirmation, Klary smiled wickedly, checked the status of her blaster pistol and moved along the command walkway with purpose.

 

Pellaeon heard the tell-tale clank of the bay doors locking underneath them. Thrawn heard it too because the Grand Admiral made a slight growling sound. The Captain knew his commanding officer was already assessing the risk associated with making their way to the manual overrides – which George Harding was currently standing over.

The override was a floor panel, pull switch; the access panel was easy enough to get into but under the circumstances the time it would take to pull the panel and activate the switch would provide at least twenty opportunities for kill shots by the attacking squad of stormtroopers.

The _advancing_ squad of stormtroopers.

Harding had pulled a repulsor lift of empty boxes in front of him for cover as the first stormtrooper eased his way over his fallen comrade to advance toward the three who had taken up defensive positions. They were firing uselessly over boxes and crates trying to starve off the inevitable which made Harding smile.

Harding was enjoying the emotions emanating from the would-be escapees – especially Thrawn’s flash of uncertainty and concern when the fallen stormtrooper who was now behind the entire squad of advancing troopers, raised himself warily from the floor, picked up his BlasTech E-11 and rained hell on his fellow soldiers.

Captain Arton Dizon had gotten four before the squad even realized they had an issue behind them. Thrawn, Yermentic and Pellaeon didn’t waste time and neither did the Imperials in the shuttle. Within seconds all nine in the squad lay skewed around the deck like fallen marionettes.

George Harding cursed under his breath and concluded it was time to make a quiet exit. Using the crates and stacks of boxes available he slipped out of the bay through the other side entrance intent on calling for reinforcements, knowing full well, by the time they arrived, Thrawn would be half-way to the surface.

Indeed, the escapees were not interested in waiting for another round of who-can-outlast-who-while-hiding-behind-a-box. Dizon and Pellaeon both headed toward the manual release hatch in the floor. Yermentic and Thrawn raced to the shuttle; the doctor had already busied herself with tending to a blaster burned wrist and Thrawn was already ordering the officer in the cockpit to prepare for departure.

Pellaeon opened the hatch and found the pull switch easy enough but the “switch”, the Captain had to remind himself, was really a lever that required some amount of work to pull back on. He looked over at the stormtrooper next to him who was obviously not fit enough to do anything other than float around in a bacta tank, and chuckled.

“I don’t think you’re up for this trooper, allow me.”

“But sir,” Dizon protested, “I’ll climb down and-“

“What? You think an old man can’t handle a pull switch? Go to the shuttle, Trooper. I’ll be there shortly.” Pellaeon used his command voice without meaning to.

That’s what so many years in the Navy got you - too gruff.

By way of apology, he chuckled again, “I’ll take this one soldier, you’ve pulled your weight admirably. Now go.”

“Yes sir.” Dizon nodded and jogged tiredly to the shuttle which was by the sound of it ready for departure.

Pellaeon eased down into the small pit, found the lever and pulled down with his entire bodyweight. There was a satisfying thunk as the switch clicked in the back of its seating and the sound of the bay doors opening, the equivalent of two decks, below him. He didn’t give himself even a chance to smile. He was already ascending the access ladder; his mind wanting to carry his feet up the shuttle ramp when his body came to a dead stop.

Commander Greta Klary stood above him with a blaster aimed at his chest.

“Greta, I wish I could say it’s good to see you again.” Pellaeon tried to keep the venom out of his voice.

_You were a part of mutiny aboard my ship, you traitorous harpy!_

“Gilad Pellaeon, it _is_ nice to see you.” Klary smiled evilly.

“That’s Captain Pellaeon, to you,” he bit out.

There was a cry from the shuttle ramp – Pellaeon’s eyes flicked over to see Yermentic, Thrawn and Dizon with his helmet removed.

“Commander, NO!” Thrawn barked.

“Not anymore.” Klary whispered so that only Pellaeon could hear her.

Gilad Pellaeon, Captain of the ISD Chimaera straightened his shoulders and looked her in the eye; facing it all head on as he always did with every obstacle set against him.

 

She shot him in the chest as two more squads of stormtroopers entered the bay, one from the starboard entry point and one from the portside entry point.

Next to him, Yermentic screamed in grief and rage, Captain Dizon took to a loud string of expletives; Thrawn felt as if his insides had congealed.

He pulled at the doctor’s arm and pushed Dizon back into the shuttle, pressing the button to raise the hatch. He ran to the cockpit and ordered the pilot – one of the bridge officers – to depart immediately. The shuttle sped down the small shaft and out of the bay toward the planet below.

Grand Admiral Thrawn could not bring himself to look at the aft monitors and the ship that had once been his and had once been captained by a man who jokingly called himself “an old Clone Wars relic”

_I am sorry Gilad._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey
> 
> Let me start out by saying you can't possibly hate me more than I hate myself. I had to do it though.
> 
> I am sorry
> 
> I'm also sorry if it was confusing in spots - I starting playing around with the concept of writing in different "time blocks" so yes the conversation with Klary and Harding (Harding exiting the shuttle to show her the rank plaque) that happened last chapter - that's the same scene that Dizon witnessed at the beginning of this chapter. There will be more of that type of scene splitting coming up because there are now several groups to consider:  
> Elinor  
> Ezra  
> Pyrondi/Cran  
> Thrawn and Crew  
> Klary  
> Harding  
> and I'm probably missing some  
> So there's a lot going on - and it's likely to get confusing and I apologize in advance! 
> 
> Thankfully I don't have to write Bastilis anymore - guy gave me the creeps. Guh
> 
> There are two more chapters in Part II - I've spent most of my time working on Part III.
> 
> Again, just wanna say thank you for all the support out there. Never ever ever did I expect to get such a response with this. I should have gotten laid off a lot sooner...I'm seriously just kidding - when I'm not working on Part III I'm applying for engineering jobs in my own version of "Uptown" because I certainly don't want to move back to the farm "Up State" :)
> 
> Thanks again for making this fun!


	39. Flight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning:  
> Language, Violence
> 
> In This Chapter:  
> Jesus can't help you  
> Get Away Vehicle  
> Distraction for Ezra to go on foot  
> Don't screw with Klary  
> Elinor STILL hates guns  
> The bridge crew's grief  
> That's no spider, that's a TIE fighter  
> Harding as a stormtrooper  
> Thrawn's super power - it's not what you think  
> Ezra tracks Elinor.

 

Betsy was a sweet old woman and under any other circumstances, Elinor wouldn’t have minded her company; or at least she would have disregarded the religious talk the woman seemed to press. Betsy wore a little brown crocheted hat and mismatched socks; she jumped from subject to subject without preamble – one-minute speaking affectionately of her five cats and the next about her church group which got together every other day to praise Jesus. The shifts in topic as well as the one blue sock and one black sock were enough to drive Ellie crazy.

Well, that and the _pain_.

Another contraction – was it Braxton-Hicks or was this the real thing, she couldn’t tell - came and went - and suddenly Betsy stopped her incessant chatter and patted her hand kindly.

“I prayed ta Jesus, t’ help wit yer contractions, sweet thing,” she said matter-of-factly. “An’ Jesus always answers prayers.”

“Oh, uh…thank you.” Elinor cringed because she couldn’t help having it come out more like a question than a statement.

She sighed internally, half expecting Betsy to begin the long arduous process of trying to convert her from her heathen ways and convince her that her particular church was the best option if she wanted to be taken into Jesus’s heart.

“Yer absolutely welcome, ma dear.” She hummed.

Another contraction took her breath away.

“I have a couple hemorrhoids, can Jesus help with those too?” she growled through clenched teeth.

This of course, wasn’t true – it was thankfully, one of the only bullets from pregnancy she managed to dodge, but Betsy didn’t know that, and Elinor’s pain was increasing, she was feeling testy and steadily losing patience.

The little old woman, cocked her head and smirked, “Nope, Jesus dun’t deal wit assholes.”

Despite the pain and her determination to be grouchy and miserable she laughed out loud. Betsy smiled kindly.

“Now, y’all givin’ that baby a good Christian name?”

_Ugh._

“I haven’t picked out a name yet.”

“Oh. Well y’all still got time, right?” the older woman looked at her with renewed interest.

Elinor shook her head still breathing heavy from the last contraction, “Not really, I’m in labor.”

“Oh, Dear Lord in Heaven, does yer husband know?” Betsy asked wide-eyed.

Elinor bit her lower lip; she could try to use this to her advantage.

“I don’t think so, I didn’t want to bother him. He’s sooo busy with the car and I just –“

Betsy tutted at her, “Ya stay right here, I’ll go n’ git ‘im. If all else fails, we kin take y’all ta the hospital. There’s pleny a room in the back an’ we kin put the boys in the back if need be – it’s not gunna hurt ‘em a bit.”

The woman slid out of the truck and proceeded to strut like a proud mother hen across the road to the two men with their heads halfway inside the hood of the SUV. Elinor watched her furtively as she slipped over to the driver side of the Chevy S-10. The engine was already on – Betsy insisted on “keepin’ tha’ baby snug n’ warm.”

She hadn’t driven in five years; not since being diagnosed with epilepsy. Before that though, she drove everywhere. She learned how on a tractor, she took her drivers exam on a stick shift 1987 GMC Jimmy which barely passed state inspection and required a tetanus shot prior to climbing into it.

_You can do this, Elinor!_

Thankfully this truck was an automatic transmission – not that she couldn’t handle a stick but figuring out the clutch and finding first while having contractions and being in close proximity to a _very_ angry Doug Whittland was not the optimal situation.

_Here goes!_

She put the little truck in drive and drove away from the already screaming trio, kicking up mud and grass as she grinned in triumph…until the next contraction had her hunched over the steering wheel.

 

Jedi Bridger, Pyrondi and Cran came to a dead stop.

Apparently there had been an accident on the path ahead of them and the old highway – a two lane road - was closed ahead. Crissa cursed. It was almost night fall.

“I need to go on foot,” the young Jedi said.

“What? You have no idea where she is!” Cran looked sharply over his shoulder at him, “You’ll get lost out there – it’s nothing but trees, that and Pyrondi said there’s _snakes_.”

“She’s nearby.”

“Was she part of the accident, do you think?” Pyrondi looked at him via the little rear-view mirror.

Ezra’s eyes narrowed in concentration, “I think so…”

Pyrondi turned the vehicle abruptly out of the line of cars and into the opposite lane, retracing the way they came.

“What the kriff are you doing?” Cran looked over at her.

“Parking.”

About two tenths of a kilometer down the road, she found a scenic pull-over area, but apparently everyone else had the idea to sit and wait for the traffic on the opposite side to clear. It was a tight squeeze to park near a red Mazda and Pyrondi accidently grazed the front end of the smaller vehicle.

“Well, that’s _not_ good” Cran commented drily, as a very irate looking bald man stepped out of the car and started screaming at them.

“Major, do you know Huttese?” Pyrondi asked casually.

“Uh, enough to be dangerous, why?”

“How ignorant can you act?” she asked with a smirk.

Cran looked over at her as a small smile started to form, “I’m downright stupid, and you drive like an inebriated Jawa.”

Pyrondi grinned and nodded.

Both Imperials jumped out of the SUV yelling at each other in Huttese while Ezra Bridge slipped away unnoticed, into the forest.

 

George Harding could not remember ever being so furious.

Never, not even when Elinor Savona punched him squarely in the face, had he felt this much rage.

Doug Whittland had lost her along with the prize she carried; and now without her and Thrawn, all bets were off. He would take great pleasure in killing Whittland and then we would take his time killing Klary too. Slowly, carefully; likely enlisting the aid of Dr. Bastilis, who had suddenly gone missing.

The flurry of activity onboard the Chimaera raised to a crescendo as another transport – a larger troop transport - was pulled closer to the front end of the hanger bay and prepared for departure. Before it’s departure, however, the Commander _summoned_ him to the bridge.

“Bastilis is dead!” she hissed.

Harding pursed his lips.

Correction: he was _now_ more furious than he was just moments prior.

With his gift he felt his own emotions ripple and writhe around him like an angry ocean and it irritated him even more.

“We’ll have Elinor Savona, soon,” he stepped forward. “She’s what matters now. Thrawn is secondary.”

“Thrawn is _secondary_?” Klary looked at him incredulously. “You clearly haven’t seen the man in action.”

He resisted the urge to question the Commander over why she didn’t send their famed TIE fighters out against the fleeing shuttle. Harding’s guess would be that it would draw too much suspicion within the ranks to have Imperial TIEs firing on a shuttle. Questions were never a good thing, at least not until you could brush them aside.

Either way, he didn’t have a ready means of leaving the Chimaera, if Klary decided she didn’t like his attitude…it was best to err on the side of caution.

“I don’t _need_ to, if we have the woman and her baby, he’ll be powerless.”

“Fine. I’m sending three squads down to retrieve her from your man. That should be enough.” Klary waved her hand dismissively.

Harding’s eyes narrowed slightly.

She didn’t know that Elinor had escaped. If Whittland could not recover her, this may prove an excellent opportunity to pin her escape on Thrawn and hence Klary’s own incompetence.

“I’ll go down as well.” Harding turned to leave but Klary motioned for the stormtroopers at the bridge entrance to step forward.

“I think not.” Klary laughed, “You’ll be staying here.”

Harding turned slowly back around, “I’ll be of assistance and I promise not to interfere.”

Klary stepped forward and came almost boot-tip to boot-tip with Harding, “ _You lie_.”

Harding smirked, “Normally I do, yes…but in this case, I only want to help.”

Klary arched her brows and pursed her lips in mock consideration as Harding gritted his teeth.

He had definitely underestimated this one. He would not make the same mistake twice…but his gifts always steered him in the right direction.

“Elinor Savona escaped custody ten minutes ago.” He said blankly, giving in to what his gift told him, “I can get her back for you.”

Klary’s eyes widened and her face contorted in fear and anger.

“You _will_ indeed,” She snarled. Her head whipped around to one of the men in the crew pits, “Mendoza – send two TIEs down to the surface, coordinates will be forthcoming.”

She looked at Harding pointedly, “Now, you’re going to tell me everything. _Everything_.”

Klary stressed the last word, her voice as hard as durasteel, her face pinched in barely concealed rage with her hand dangerously close to her blaster.

 

Elinor was driving toward Uptown when she heard it. To be sure she rolled down her window; she was having difficulties parsing out the sounds of her requisitioned vehicle, the thudding of her heart and…

_Oh no!_

…the scream of Imperial TIE fighters.

Her heart bounced and the baby inside her kicked furiously.

And here she was driving a bright red target on a deserted road. Would they be looking for a red truck heading back _into_ Uptown? Would they pay any attention to a red truck heading _away_ from Uptown? She slammed on the breaks and did a quick K-turn; speeding away in the opposite direction as fast as the old Chevy could manage without vibrating itself apart.

This of course, would lead her back to Whittland, but if she happened to run him over, she convinced herself she wouldn’t cry as much over hitting him, as she would a squirrel. Another contraction caught her as she came around the bend and she could see the incapacitated SUV.

How do you drive a stolen red Chevy S-10 with a bad muffler, inconspicuously past its owners and the man who wanted to kill you?

_You don’t! Now is not the time for subtleness, Elinor!_

She grunted and slammed her foot on the gas pedal. The little engine roared and pushed the thing forward, faster than Elinor thought it would go, but Whittland had heard her coming (or rather the metal-on-metal rattling of the truck’s muffler). He was already standing in the middle of the road, gun in one hand and in his other….

_A commlink!_

She turned the wheel sharply, slammed on the breaks and with a squeal of tires the truck bed ended up at a near ninety-degree angle to the FBI agent screaming into his communication device. Once again, Elinor slammed on the gas to speed away from her captor and toward Uptown.

Obviously, Whittland was in contact with the Imperials that would be directing the TIEs to her location. She needed to find cover quickly – if she could just find a dirt access road into the wooded area that would offer cover from the air –

Her thoughts were interrupted by a pop-pop-pop behind her.

She _almost_ forgot about Whittland’s gun.

Almost.

_Bastard_.

 

The shuttle landed about 50 kilometers north of the city, far enough away from civilization in a wooded area. They were 6 kilometers southeast of the original entry point where Thae Cran, Arton Dizon and Sawnor Rogyn had landed to start their surveillance of a woman, no one knew anything about – a woman who changed everything.

Dr. Yermentic took to organizing the supplies she had taken from the Chimaera’s sick bay. The bridge officers and Captain Dizon had changed from their stuffy stormtrooper uniforms into the much more comfortable but bland looking olive-green tunic and trousers. Thrawn was in the cockpit dealing with the shuttle’s eccentric shutdown sequence.

Tobevoh noticed first.

“Where’s the Captain?”

Yermentic looked up sharply then to the stormtrooper Captain. The Lieutenant Commander looked between the two of them and his brow furrowed in suspicion.

“You left him _there_?” the Commander whispered in incredulous contempt.

Yermentic swallowed and pursed her lips. She shook her head fiercely but couldn’t bring herself to speak. Her voice would crack, and doctors weren’t allowed to cry. Wasn’t that in the Imperial handbook, somewhere?

Dizon simply stared at Tobevoh as the man become more and more irritated.

“He would have never left _you_ and yet you left _him_!? How _could_ you?” He started toward Yermentic, “How could YOU?”

Dizon moved to intercept him. “And YOU! You call yourself a kriffing stormtrooper! You picked yourself up, but you couldn’t manage to wait around for the Captain? You just left him?” Tobevoh raged.

“Commander, listen –“ Dizon tried to reason with him, he also tried to tell himself that he _shouldn’t_ let Tobevoh punch him but everything the man said was something the stormtrooper Captain had already thought and maybe breaking Dizon’s jaw would help the Lt. Commander feel better.

Dizon took the hit to the side of his face, black spots forming in his vision. Tobevoh was a big man, after all and had likely excelled in his self-defense classes at the Academy. He heard Yermentic gasp behind him and cry out as he readied himself for another punch. Several of the other officers had already attempted to hold the distraught man back, but he began his advance on the stormtrooper once again. Dizon straightened himself waiting without attempting a defense.

How could he defend himself?

He had left Gilad Pellaeon when he should have stayed to cover him.

He had left the Captain to do what he should have done.

_It should really be me with a hole in my chest._

“STOP!”

The voice caused Tobevoh to halt in his tracks. Everyone except Dizon looked at the armored figure striding toward them. The Grand Admiral had removed his helmet and his chest plate; his glowing red eyes shifting back and forth between Tobevoh and Dizon.

“Lieutenant Commander Tobevoh.” Thrawn nodded gravely, “Your loyalty to Captain Pellaeon is acknowledged and appreciated. He would be most gratified, if he were here.”

Tobevoh opened his mouth to comment, likely to point out his understanding as to why the Captain wasn’t there, but Thrawn raised his hand to silence him.

“Gilad Pellaeon, was first and foremost an Imperial officer of the highest degree. He would demand nothing less of anyone serving under him. I suggest you take that into consideration.”

“Yes, sir.” Tobevoh said, he shifted slightly away from the stormtrooper, “But sir? Why did we have to leave him?”

Thrawn’s frown deepened slightly, “We did not leave him Commander” he said softly, “Under my command, we do not leave _anyone_ behind.”

The pain of his own words; the hypocrisy of them made his brow furrow with emotion.

_You left Elinor, behind._

“Then…what happened?” Tobevoh pushed.

Doctor Yermentic stepped around the Grand Admiral and studied Commander Tobevoh, who, by the mix of facial expressions playing across his face had figured it out.

“Lieutenant Commander Tobevoh, Lieutenant Commander Wilton, Lieutenant Commander Yates, Lieutenant Ovally, Lieutenant Toldera, I regret to inform you of the death of Captain Gilad Pellaeon –“

There was a collective gasp amongst the young officers – all of them had idealized their Captain.

“-of the ISD Chimaera. The Captain was shot at point blank range in the sternum by Commander Greta Klary in the hanger bay of -”

One of the bridge officers swore and another – Yates tried to stifle her sobs.

“-the Chimaera approximately thirty minutes ago. I will be documenting this formally in a medical log to be transferred to the primary ship’s log at a later time and date.” Yermentic paused as she shallowed hard, “I’m sorry for your loss.”

The doctor turned quickly away to hide her own grief.

 

She ducked as best she could, the bullets zinged through the back of the cab and left conchoidal flower-like patterns of broken glass on the front windshield, missing her right shoulder by mere centimeters. The baby kicked frantically inside her, certainly not oblivious to the destruction going on beyond her trembling cocoon of warmth. Elinor’s heart fluttered as she realized she would likely give birth while trying to dodge Imperial TIE fighters and a murderous FBI agent.

_One thing at a time, Elinor! Just head to the trees!_

And she did just that; she was almost there too, when the TIEs spotted her. Both made a smooth arc around, keeping close to the tops of the trees. The lead TIE dipped down below the tree line where the highway cut through the wooded area; the fighters side panels almost grazing the pavement of the road underneath.

Elinor’s widened eyes flashed up to the rear-view mirror only to see what looked like a giant spider approaching from behind her. She slammed on the breaks just as the pilot let loose with his laser cannons – over shooting his mark and burning a crater into the road in front of her. The TIE pulled up to avoid hitting the back of the now-stationary truck, but the tip of the fighter’s panels caught the top of the cab and pushed the little vehicle forward into the basin it had just created with its laser cannons.

Unfortunately for the pilot, the slight unbalanced angle coupled with the rapid acceleration caused the TIE to spin wildly out of control, arcing up and away from the road until it finally crashed back down in a fiery death, a half kilometer away.

Elinor wasn’t going anywhere, and there was still one more TIE out there. She pushed open the driver side door with her foot and slid carefully out of her get-away vehicle. It was almost dusk, she would have the cover of night soon, but she would be in the woods, by herself, pregnant…and in labor.

_At least no one is shooting at you, Elinor!_

 

George Harding was given stormtrooper armor and relegated to following the orders of a young Lieutenant – a man by the name of Tanner – not nearly as arrogant as Lieutenant Rhyns but much smarter. The troop transport had landed about 30 miles outside of Uptown, to the north, near where Whittland had lost his quarry.

He felt himself start to seethe again and had to push the emotion down to sooth the ripples it created. His gift was one where if he, himself created the ripples, it would be difficult to spot the ripples in others, and Harding really needed his gift now.

The ripple from Elinor Savona was getting stronger. She was close by but also her fear was increasing. The child would be coming soon, Harding could feel that as well. A smaller ripple, very subtle but it was there.

He smiled tightly as the Lieutenant ordered the three squads to fan out into the wooded area – comb the trees and shrubs and watch for suspicious movement. Capture do not kill.

Yes, he would have the ultimate prize soon. To hell with Thrawn.

 

Dizon opened the hatch and the ramp lowered to allow them exit into the wooded area outside of the shuttle.

“You don’t think the shuttle will be spotted, do you?” Yermentic asked looking up at Thrawn.

“If it is, the TIE pilots will consider very carefully before firing on a Lambda shuttle. If it is visible to the native population, we may easily come up with an excuse.”

“Such as?”

“We’ll say it’s a storage shed.” Dizon commented dryly from behind her.

“A what?” Yermentic wiggled her nose.

“It’s something they –“

There was a sudden hiss at the foot of the ramp as Dizon marched toward the edge. He stopped as a swift movement in the dead leaves caught his attention. He looked over at Yermentic and she made a face. Dizon went back inside the shuttle and came out seconds later with a piece of armor – a stormtrooper’s shin guard by the look of it and tossed it beyond the foot of the ramp.

The forest floor came alive with hissing and the crunching movement of leaves as eight – nine - ten brown snakes either angrily attacked the shin guard or each other.

“Hm. Suggestions, doctor?” Dizon looked repulsed by the reptiles.

“You don’t like snakes, I take it, Captain?” Yermentic looked at him, the mirth poorly concealed.

“And you do?” Dizon looked at her incredulously.

Thrawn grunted and walked to the edge of the ramp, the first snake that had hissed at the stormtrooper Captain was balled up protectively as the Grand Admiral approached. He gingerly stepped over it and over the next which was stretched out behind and to the right of the first. Thrawn was in the thick of them when he made a strange grating sound with his teeth. All ten began hissing furiously and drawing back as if to strike. The Chiss made the same discordant sound again followed by a low hiss of his own. The dead leaves on the forest floor crackled with the haste of snakes slithering away as if they were children scolded by a parent for breaking curfew.

Thrawn snorted and said something neither the Captain nor the doctor understood and walked casually back up the ramp to where they stood staring. The Grand Admiral raised his eye brows in question.

“Did you wish them to stay?”

“Uh – no sir, I just didn’t realize...” Dizon looked confusedly around the shuttle for more of the pests.

A familiar sound saved Dizon from having to explain to the Grand Admiral that he didn’t realize the man was _so good_ with animals.

_TIE fighters._

“Cover, outside. _Now_.” Thrawn ordered.

Dizon called for the five officers in the shuttle and they raced outside, all eight Imperials hiding in the brush far enough away from the shuttle so that, if the TIEs decided to use it for target practice, they wouldn’t get fried.

This was where olive-green was a good choice. They blended perfectly into the environment; even Thrawn in his Mandalorian armor would be hard pressed to stand out in the wooded area they were in. If they played it smart, they could go unnoticed for some time even with TIEs circling above them.

They waited and waited and Dizon half expected the fighters to circle around the shuttle like carrion birds would a carcass; but their cries stayed off to the west. Thrawn had his head cocked to the side listening when they heard the explosion.

_Someone one the ground managed to take down a TIE fighter?_

“Uh, sir?” Dizon asked.

Thrawn hissed slightly and Dizon recalled the snakes; looking furtively at the ground.

_If he chased them away, could he call them back?_

“We must go. Now. We will travel west.” Thrawn’s voice was firm.

“That’s _toward_ the TIE fighters.” Yermentic commented dryly.

“Yes.”

“Care to elaborate on why we’re going _toward_ the TIE fighters?” Yermentic asked in the same dry voice.

“No.”

Yermentic bobbed her head and grinned, “Welcome back, sir. I missed you, you vacuum -brained fool.”

“The feeling is mutual, Doctor.”

 

Ezra truly hoped the Imperials knew what they were doing, but he wasn’t able to help them now. He had to find Elinor, and fast!

He followed the line of cars, jogging along the side of the road until he came to the scene of the “accident” or what he thought was the accident. As it turned out it was just a discarded SUV, very similar to the one they had been using for transportation. He peered inside, found it empty and was trotting past its rear passenger tire when a piece of metal caught his eye.

The young Jedi skidded to a halt, almost slipping on the mud underfoot. He bent down and pulled a screw from the thick rubber and inspected it in the fading light. It was a filament screw usually used on fuse boxes supporting hyperdrives.

Elinor Savona _was_ here…but she hadn’t wanted to be.

He reached out.

The man’s anger

Her pain and fear.

But there was something else… Hope. Escape. An explosion and then trees…nothing but trees and the pain and fear were back.

He raced forward and saw it.

The red truck, the crater her footprints in the mud, sliding from the edge of the roadway into the darkened trees that stood like sentinels watching her pain, fear and grief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello,
> 
> If you're still with me...
> 
> There is one more chapter after this one in Part II.
> 
> I can't shake the feeling that Part III is going to be a huge let down. In my mind it's not as intricate...


	40. Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning:  
> Language, Violence
> 
> In This Chapter:  
> Duck and cover  
> He doesn't care  
> Ezra Runs  
> Thrawn Runs  
> Reunion  
> Will she make it?  
> Ezra: Has pregnant woman will travel.  
> Harding watches  
> Cran and Pyrondi's drama  
> Fancy meeting you here, Tabitha!  
> Lieutenant Tanner  
> Back on the bridge  
> Voices  
> Should have done better/Should not have left  
> Athena  
> Watching from afar
> 
> End of Part II

 

Elinor slipped several times, landing on her hands and knees. The dead leaves and mud made it treacherously slick. She was not intending to go gallivanting in the woods when she picked out her footwear – flimsy ballet flats that she didn’t need to tie and really didn’t need to see over the dome of her middle to slip on.

With each fall, the sharp pain in her sides intensified and her back spasmed in protest. She wiped the sweat from her forehead and gasped as, yet another contraction took her breath away. They were getting closer together and more powerful.

She had made it far enough away from the road – likely a mile – and the trees were thick above her head. Elinor was comfortable in taking a small rest while she collected herself. She would likely need a doctor – she didn’t have the know-how to deliver her own baby – so she’d need to make her way back to Uptown quickly.

It was dark now, maybe if she headed back to the road, she could hitch a ride…no, they would be expecting that…maybe someone on one of the old access roads would be able to help her – a lot of hunters came out this way in the early morning – she would just have to survive until then.

She shook her head to clear it as another wave of pain swept over her body making her tremble. She gritted her teeth and whimpered – the sound almost stifled the advance of five stormtroopers coming over the small hill behind her. Elinor heard the rustle of leaves and darted behind the hollowed-out tree a half second before they crested the knoll.

Her situation seemed strangely familiar, déjà vu set in and she struggled to place when and where she had been in this same situation. Her heart pounded in her chest. The baby kicked furiously up at her as her sides and back ached and spasmed causing her to almost double over in agony. Elinor screwed up her face and held her breath trying desperately not to make any kind of sound, thus alerting the advancing troopers to her location. Her feet slipped several times in the mud as she struggled to get closer to the tree for cover.

She released a shaky breath, relief passing through her when she didn’t see any of the troopers come into her field of vision. Elinor’s relief was, unfortunately, short lived.

She turned her head to the left in time to see the white armored man step forward – his BlasTech E-11 pointed in front of him, at the ready.

He was close. Too close.

She could feel the fear inside her. Her own and her baby’s.

_The dream!_

Her heart beat erratically just as it did in her vision months ago, only it wasn’t just her heart thumping inside her – her daughter. The child she and Thrawn had created.

Tears welled in her eyes as she clenched her jaw, desperate to keep her breathing under control…and just as he did in her dream, the stormtrooper turned his head.

Elinor’s eyes widened as he turned his E-11 toward her…leveled it at her chest...

She dropped to the ground as the blast hit the tree behind her; burning pieces of bark and moss raining down on her as she scrambled to her feet. The stormtrooper, for whatever reason – be it shock that she was pregnant or surprise that she had managed to dodge the stun blast, did not get an opportunity to line up his blaster for another shot. She charged at him, grabbing his loosely held blaster and pushing him off his feet. She stunned him and backed away hastily dropping the gun in revulsion.

Elinors body trembled with another contraction and she could no longer help but double over in pain. She stumbled forward in an effort to flee; certain that the other stormtroopers would be here within seconds. Her feet refused to move, she panted and then cried out in agony from the effort. She held the dome of her belly trying to sooth both herself and the baby. Elinor dropped to her knees and all she heard where her own whimpers and gulps for air as the contractions became all consuming.

The muzzle of the stormtrooper’s E-11 blaster nudged the side of her head as she hunched over, shivering and covered in sweat.

“Stand up, hands up. Slowly.” The voice was cold and devoid of compassion.

“I – I -I c-c-an’t. I-I-I –“ Elinor stammered.

“I said get _up_. _Now_.” The trooper barked.

“I-I-I’m in labor.” Elinor gasped.

“I don’t kriffing care.” He said as he pointed his blaster at her face.

A flash of light was all Elinor saw before she passed out from the pain and exertion.

 

Ezra ran and ran. As fast as he could, he ran.

He felt it. Her terror.

He heard it. A blaster on stun and the splintering of wood. A surprised grunt followed by another stun blast. He ran toward the sounds.

He heard her cries and sobs and the other stormtrooper’s arrival. He ran.

He heard his demands. He heard her pleading. He ran

“I-I-I’m in labor.”

He saw her on her knees, her whole-body trembling, her clothes mud spattered, her face ashen and sweaty. Her hands clutched protectively around her pregnant self. He saw the stormtrooper standing over her, his weapon drawn. He shifted.

Ezra unhooked his lightsaber and ran.

“I don’t kriffing care”

He ran.

The lightsaber sliced cleanly through the end of the BlasTech E-11 just as it fired. The tibanna gas inlet valve used as part of the firing mechanism to transfer the explosive material into the ignition chamber was temporarily blocked by the Jedi’s weapon, resulting in a reverse flow of gas. The weapon exploded brilliantly spraying the Imperial with shards of superheated metal – the chemical composition of which was a trade secret of BlasTech Industries.

The man stepped back, cursing. He was grabbing clumsily for a small pistol at his belt when something fast and very solid hit him, snapping his neck and killing him instantly.

 

Thrawn heard the sound of a blaster set to stun and held up his hand up to stop the party’s advance. Seven seconds later there was another. It was close by – likely less than 100 meters. The Grand Admiral motioned for Dizon.

“Captain, you and I will advance to determine what threats lie ahead. The rest will remain here until you are called for or one of us returns.”

The chorus of “yes, sirs” followed him as he and the stormtrooper Captain moved cautiously across the slippery terrain. Dizon had a difficult time keeping his footing, often catching his feet on tree roots and tripping over jagged rocks but the Chiss moved with the surety and grace as he always did.

The two Imperials crested a small hill and the abruptness in which Thrawn took off running made him drop down into a defensive position. He staggered to his feet, hastily; unwilling to call after him for fear of giving his location away as well as the position of the advancing Grand Admiral clad in Mandalorian armor.

Dizon followed the man’s probable trajectory with his eyes and swore. On her knees, hugely pregnant, shaking with fear and pain was Elinor Savona, and standing above her with a blaster pointed directly at her face was a stormtrooper.

Thrawn was advancing at an incredible speed but he wasn’t going to make it based on the trooper’s body stance, the man was running out of patience. Elinor looked exhausted, even from this distance, Dizon could tell she had nothing left in her, not even a cry for help.

There was movement from the corner of his vision. Someone running, faster than even Thrawn, toward the trooper who’s cold voice could be heard in the still silence of the forest. The figure quickly advancing was almost upon the white armored soldier when there was a snap-hiss and a purple lightsaber blade came into existence.

It slashed the stormtroopers blaster in half causing it to explode in a hail of fiery sparks. Two and a half seconds later Thrawn slammed into the man, wrapping his arms around his neck and snapping it forcefully to the side, killing him instantly.

The Grand Admiral tossed aside the corpse of the man, pulled off his helmet and ran to the unconscious woman on the ground. Thrawn collapsed to his knees in front of her. He brushed the hair away from her forehead and cupped her face murmuring as he searched for a pulse.

Yes. It was there.

“Yermentic!”

He heard Jedi Bridger echo his call as he rocked Elinor in his arms. He put his hand down on her swollen belly and her eyes fluttered. She whimpered and winced in pain.

Her eyelids fluttered again.

“Elinor. Look at me. Elinor?”

Once again, her lashes fluttered, and her eyes opened. When she saw him, she tried to sit up, but a wave of pain wracked her body. Tears began to form.

“Thrawn.” He voice was strained, “Thrawn I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I-I-I tried. I-I I “ she gasped in pain.

Thrawn shook his head, “No, there is nothing you need apologize for. You are safe now. Dr. Yermentic will be here soon.”

Elinor grabbed at his arm as another contraction wracked her body, “I’m s-s-s-sorry.”

He held her as she screamed silently into his chest armor, her arms and legs shaking from the agony. Finally, Yermentic skidded to the ground next to her, producing a needle from a small pack.

“Elinor, I’m going to inject this into your thigh. It has pain reducing properties, so it should help with some of the stiffer contractions, just enough to help you walk.”

“W-W-What a-about the b-b-baby?”

“Won’t hurt her at all!” Yermentic smiled reassuringly, “Beside she’s ready to come out sometime soon based on how many contractions you’re having.”

The doctor administered the injection and checked to see Elinor’s progression.

“Uh, gentlemen, we need to go. _Now_.”

Just then Ezra Bridger’s head snapped up. Thrawn looked over at him.

“Bridger?”

Before the young Jedi could answer his lightsaber was out and activated and he had jumped in front of a shower of blaster fire aimed at the huddled Imperials gathered around Elinor. Dizon, Tobevoh, Toldera and Thrawn took up defensive positions behind Ezra firing at the white armored beings they once would have considered comrades. Most of the shots Ezra simply deflected into the trees but there were some he sent right back into the attacker’s chests.

“We must go. Now.” Thrawn motioned to Dizon, Tobevoh and Toldera. The Chiss grabbed Ezra by the shoulder and pulled him back as he slung a blaster bolt straight back to its point of origin.

“Captain, rear cover if you would please.” Thrawn strode toward Yermentic who was guiding a confused looking Elinor; obviously still in extreme pain.

“Will she make it to the shuttle?” Thrawn’s voice was low.

Yermentic looked up at the Grand Admiral and pursed her lips, “She’ll make it but she’s likely to be carrying the baby in her arms when she gets there.”

Thrawn looked over his shoulder at Elinor. Then over at the young Jedi as he trotted forward, lightsaber still in his hand and at the ready.

“What?” he asked defensively when he noticed Thrawn studying him.

 

Yermentic had already started running toward the shuttle. Thrawn held her against him as the Jedi prepared himself.

“Alright. Let’s find out how much of that vending machine stuck to you.” Ezra grinned at her.

She smiled tiredly at him. She looked up at Thrawn.

“I’ll see you soon?”

“Yes. Very soon.”

She nodded slowly. His brow furrowed with emotion as he cupped her face with both hands and kissed her hard on the lips. He quickly turned and started running.

Ezra stood next to her looking sheepish, “Um…shall we?”

“Yes” she said as another contraction caused her to grunt. Elinor had to remind herself several times to breathe.

She walked over to the Jedi and put one arm over his shoulder, he gently put his arm around her back and scooped her up holding her legs up with his arm braced firmly at her knee joints; careful not to push at her pregnant middle too much. Once both were adjusted, Ezra started to run.

He could tap into the Force to run; the extra weight of carrying Elinor seemed like nothing to him. He ran with her in his arms like he would if she were nothing more than a feather. She watched as the trees flashed by and gritted her teeth as another contraction shook her to the core. The cool air whipped her hair away from her sweaty forehead making her shiver and her eyes water.

She closed her eyes.

 

He watched as the boy with the impressive laser sword sliced through the stormtrooper’s blaster; saw the Chiss tackle the white armored trooper standing over the pregnant woman. Even from his good distance away – likely fifty meters concealed in the brush – he could hear the man’s neck snap.

The Grand Admiral collapsed at the woman’s side in obvious distress.

He used his gift to reach out. No, she was alive. Her baby was also alive.

_Good._

Just then he heard the crunch of leaves behind him and he cursed under his breath. The boy – likely the Jedi - Commander Klary had warned him about was already alerted. His alarm rippled around him like tiny pebbles dropping into a calm pool. And there again, was that laser sword – what did Klary call it?

_Lightsaber._

The squad of stormtroopers behind him advanced and started firing like fools with no thought as to how they would subdue the group or deal with the boy and his sword. This was apparently what happened when you had poor or inexperienced leaders in the field. Lieutenant Tanner was smart but woefully untried and the stormtroopers in this particular squad were as intelligent as the ground beef one would buy at the average grocery store.

It didn’t much matter how the firefight played out, his goals had shifted. His gift was telling him…

Harding retraced his steps, circling around the muddy slope of the hill and headed southeast.

His gift told him to hurry so he quickened his pace; making sure to remain well hidden in the trees and brush despite his white armor. The escapees from the Chimaera including Thrawn’s Chief Medical Officer took off running southeast and Harding was well on his way to intercepting their path.

_Not yet._

His gift held him back and would likely tell him when to move forward again. He slowed to a walk, along the same path as before but with less urgency. Suddenly there was movement farther up on the ridge.

_Now._

Harding began to move and ran forward out of the thick vegetation staggering slightly but regaining his footing just in time to barrel into none-other than Grand Admiral Thrawn. Despite his height, muscular stature and armor, Harding’s momentum caused the Chiss to stumble. If there had been surprise on Thrawn’s part, it didn’t last long, he was turning -practically in mid-air to aim his blaster at Harding when the former Earth engineer stunned him.

Harding commed Tanner - the Lieutenant answered immediately.

“Lieutenant. I have a gift for you and Commander Klary.”

“Sir?” Tanner didn’t understand who Harding was exactly, only that Klary – the acting commander of the Chimaera – had ordered him to take the man down to the surface with the three squads.

“I’ve captured the traitor, Grand Admiral Thrawn.”

 

Pyrondi and Cran had played the holodrama out to exhaustion. Cran had called her a toothless parasite with the intellect roughly equal to a pile of rancor shit and she had called him an inbred slug to be ground up for lubricant used explicitly for the purpose of lubricating… a Hutt’s backside(?) A few barbs caused the Major to struggle to keep his angry facade.

The man in the red car continued to yell and wave his hands in disgust, but more so at the behavior of the two foreigners who were wagging their fingers at each other in a heated argument – likely a lover’s quarrel instead of over who was at fault for the tiny scratch on his Mazda. Finally, he gave up trying to get the woman’s insurance information, made some derogatory comment about immigrants and drove away.

Cran snorted, “Where did you learn to curse, Commander?”

“The Imperial Navy, Major. We need to find Bridger and Elinor.”

They didn’t follow the line of cars like the Jedi had done though, they jogged across the road; cutting in between the stopped cars and entered the dark wooded area. They didn’t travel far when they realized the forest had been disturbed by a lot more than just one Jedi and a pregnant woman.

_Stormtroopers_.

A lot of stormtroopers. Pyrondi cursed, drew the one blaster she had; concealed for so long and the only thing she had with her when she left the Chimaera. Cran stood up from his assessment of the tracks and nodded.

“They’re heading south.”

She smiled evilly, “Let’s go find out if their aim is truly as bad as the average stormtrooper.”

Cran grumbled something about “ungrateful Naval officers” and “your Huttese isn’t even that good,” as they headed south.

 

They didn’t see a single stormtrooper, which was unusual given that they had a tendency to be very _visually_ obvious. They did, however, hear them. Slightly to the east of their position, blaster fire had erupted and by the sounds of the bursts, and changes in frequencies, it was not a one-sided battle.

Pyrondi and Cran started running toward the battle as quickly as they could while still being watchful for the enemy, a trap or just the terrain – a slick moss-covered ground with the occasional tree root and jagged rock.

Cran skidded to a halt and grabbed Pyrondi’s arm lowering her down to the ground in a crouch as someone, not dressed in stormtrooper armor ran by.

_Yermentic?_

“Tabitha!”

The doctor looked over her shoulder saw the other two Imperials and slowed slightly.

“Crissa! Thae! Hurry.” She ushered them to follow her.

“We need to find Elinor!” Cran barked.

Yermentic laughed, “We got her, and the baby isn’t far behind!”

 

The response was not what Harding expected.

There was the long pause over the commlink, followed by the less than enthusiastic request for more information. Lieutenant Tanner informed him he would send five men to investigate his “claim.” He bit back a retort and violently ended the call.

The Chiss, clad in green and brown armor, remained motionless on the ground. He kicked him spitefully after having bound his hands. Those mysterious red eyes opened to look at him – and he truly wanted it to be in rage or pain or fear, but it was not. Thrawn’s face was in its usual impassive state but his eyes – how could they be the most expressive feature if they were red – flashed in understanding.

“You have lost.”

Harding’s smile was ugly, “No, Grand Admiral. Once the child is born, she’ll be mine. She _and_ the Chimaera. _Your_ daughter will take me where ever I wish to go in _your_ ship. So, no I think you’ll find it’s you that’s lost.”

Thrawn remained unmoving and expressionless until five stormtroopers and Lieutenant Tanner himself came bursting through the vegetation, the later looking frustrated. The five white armored men fanned out in a defensive array around Harding and Tanner as the Imperial walked up to the armored figure down on the ground.

“Sir?” Tanner asked gently, “Grand Admiral?”

Thrawn’s eyes shifted to the young Lieutenant standing over him but he didn’t speak.

“Welcome back, sir.”

Harding growled behind the younger man, “No, there is no ‘welcome back’ – he’s a traitor.”

Tanner spun around, “You are hardly in a position to make that call, since I don’t believe you’re in the Imperial Navy, Mr. Harding.”

“Fine. We take him back to the Chimaera and put him in a cell until he can be tried for his crimes.” Harding snarled.

“Oh? And what crimes would those be?” Tanner looked incredulously over at him.

He glared at the young Lieutenant, “Didn’t he abandon his post? What about dereliction of duty?”

Tanner shrugged, “I don’t know. That’s above my pay grade. The Emperor can make that determination when or if we get back. Right now, I just want to get him back to the Chimaera safely before the prisoners who escaped find out he’s down here and try to kidnap him.” The Imperial was working to remove the Grand Admiral’s restraints.

Harding’s gift pulled him.

Tanner was half-turning when the blast hit him in the back – the blaster hadn’t been set to stun and the young man died before his Imperial uniform could be tarnished by the mud on the ground his body fell on. The five troopers had busied themselves scouting the parameter and had dutifully ignored the hostile exchange between Harding and Tanner, but their attention had come abruptly back to them.

Unfortunately, Imperial stormtrooper find it easiest to shoot first and leave the questioning to the interrogation droid. Two of the five levelled their blasters at the Chiss, now free of his restraints and running in the direction he was when Harding tackled him. The other three immediately started shooting at Harding who, unlike Thrawn was armed and could readily defend himself. He had taken to shooting at the Grand Admiral first and then trying to subdue the other Imperials immediately thereafter.

One last attempt by Harding to kill or capture Thrawn - a shot aimed at his running form, from the man’s hiding spot behind a tree - missed his shoulder by a hair’s width. The five stormtroopers, at that point, were too confused about who to shoot at and why. Harding was able to slip away after grazing two of the armored men, albeit in the opposite direction as the Chiss. Thrawn was for all intense and purposes, hell bent on running after his comrades.

 

She was back on the bridge of the Chimaera. The woman – _her_ – in the burgundy dress with the beautiful braided hair was still staring out at the swirling wonder of hyperspace.

Elinor smiled.

This was her future.

She heard or felt something brush by her. A little girl with long smooth black hair and pale blue skin, in the same type of burgundy dress, ran toward the woman and tried to hide behind her. The woman – _he_ r – turned around.

Yes, she was beautiful, Elinor marveled. But there was something else.

She was sad and frightened. And angry.

_Very_ angry.

Elinor felt her brow furrow in concern, just then a figure marched forward and the woman – her future self - shifted as if sheltering the girl from the man’s view. The man…. was not the man she thought.

He was not dressed in pristine white. He was not as tall; his shoulders not as broad or muscular as she was expecting. His hair was lighter, and his skin was sickeningly pale in comparison with the beautiful blue she wanted to see. His eyes were malevolent, cold and calculating; searching for the child like a predator searches for prey.

_George Harding._

He grinned evilly at her as he reached behind her to grab the girl, who kicked and screamed; begged and pleaded to remain with her mother. Her mother – _her_! Her – Elinor.

_Elinor!_

“Elinor!”

“Elinor,” Yermentic was frantically working over her, “Elinor can you hear me?”

Her voice sounded far way and mechanical. There were other voices too.

“What happened?”

_Pyrondi?_

“She went limp as soon as we got to the shuttle”

_Ezra._

“She’s having a seizure. We’ve got to get her stable soon or there is no way she’ll be able to birth the child.”

_Yermentic._

“What do you want us to do.”

_Cran?_

“Where in the Nine Hells is he? This would be so much easier with him here. She won’t listen to a damn thing I say.”

_Yermentic again._

“We didn’t see him when we came from the north. There’s at least another squad of stormtroopers out there.”

_Pyrondi again._

There was a rustle of fabric, slight metal-on-metal scrapping, several curses.

“She’s almost fully dilated. He’s going to be an absentee father if he doesn’t get –“

“I am here.”

_Thrawn._

Elinor opened her eyes carefully and shut them again hastily – the light was blinding. She shivered.

His hand was warm as it brushed her cheek, “Elinor.”

She smiled tiredly, “I missed you.” She said hoarsely.

He kissed her forehead and Yermentic; sitting down by her feet, with her lips pursed tutted at them.

“Alright, can we please get this done so I can open up that bottle of smuggled Corellian ale and drink myself into a coma?” the doctor was busying herself prepping, what, Elinor couldn’t see.

“Yes.” Thrawn nodded without looking at the CMO, he couldn’t take his eyes off Elinor who stared back at him.

“Thrawn, I’m sorry I left.”

“It was I who left you, do you not remember?”

“I should have done better, though. I didn’t - “

“Alright Elinor, time to push.” Yermentic gave a thumbs up sign.

She was expecting the pain to be unimaginable.

It wasn’t.

Whether it was because of the drug the doctor had given her or because she was back with him, she didn’t know, but it didn’t really hurt at all. There was just pressure.

A lot of pressure.

“I didn’t do well after I left. I’m sorry. I should have done better.” She gasped after the pressure receded slightly.

“I should not have left you.” He clasped her hand as she gasped again, "I am sorry, Elinor."

Yermentic screamed something. A happy sound.

Joyful. Triumphant.

Elinor could only keep her eyes on him; under the silly childish notion that if she looked away, he would disappear, and she would be alone again.

_No, he made sure you’d never be alone!_

There was a slight high-pitched cry, and only then did she look away. Yermentic had handed her to Pyrondi who was wrapping her snuggly in a blanket. Once it was obvious the little girl was happily ensconced in warmth and comfort, she handed the bundle over to the Grand Admiral. He studied the baby girl intently, bent his head down gently and whispered something to the sleeping infant – a language none of them understood; likely Cheunh.

_My beautiful firstborn daughter – as lovely as your mother._

He handed the girl to her mother who took her gratefully and wept openly upon seeing her. By transferring her from one parent to the next, she had been jarred enough that her glowing red eyes opened in question. Upon hearing the familiar sound of her mother, she was soothed back to peaceful sleep.

Elinor looked up at Thrawn.

“Athena?”

He nodded in understanding, a small smile playing about his lips, “Appropriate. Is Athena not an ancient goddess of wisdom and courage?”

“Yes.” Elinor nodded looking down at the baby sleeping in her arms.

“Athena.” Thrawn nodded in obvious approval.

Elinor smiled.

“Athena.”

 

He felt it. It was like a giant church bell had gone off in his head. He lay gasping for breath under a large oak, he had ripped off his helmet and sat in the mud listening for the Imperials.

Klary would likely turn him in to dog meat. Thrawn escaped – yet again. Elinor Savona was also gone. Why was he so calm?

Because of her.

_Her._

He felt her.

She had finally come into the world. And she was powerful.

He would make her fierce and mighty.

Harding wondered idly what her undeserving parents would name her. She’d probably be given an alien name or some fanciful tag unworthy of her; he would likely rename her when he rescued her from them.

He smiled.

It was time to watch from afar.

\--End of Part II—

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi,
> 
> Anticlimactic? Yes.
> 
> Fun fact: Athena was also the goddess of strategic warfare as well as wisdom and courage. 
> 
> Sorry. Part III is slow going. All the bits are there but I’m still struggling with putting it all together. Some of the things I’m thinking of for Part III include:
> 
> Klary ends up being a major player – Harding is a jerk but Klary (as you know is vicious!)
> 
> Harding isn’t exactly a master strategist, but he loves to manipulate the situation. He’s also working on enhancing his “gift.” He and Elinor will go head to head.
> 
> Thrawn will come up with an interesting way to sneak back onto the Chimaera but someone will unfortunately be watching.
> 
> Wonder where that darn key code thingy is…? I wonder…
> 
> Thank you again for your patience and support. This has truly been therapeutic for me since the loss of something really important in my life. Your job isn’t supposed to mean so much to you, right? ((shrug)) I grew up on a farm wanting nothing more than to be an engineer; wanting to fix things. It’s what I was made for, but when I lost that ‘job’ I felt like I lost a part of what made “me” me. 
> 
> This has helped.
> 
> I’m still an engineer. I’m still me. I’m just fixin’ what’s broken! 
> 
> ‘Til Part III  
> -N!


	41. Prologue - Part III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning:  
> Violence (but it's villain on villain so...)
> 
> In this Chapter:  
> How Commander Klary made a friend  
> Drew blues  
> Fine dining  
> Wisdom and courage  
> "You can't stop it, Elinor!"

 

The Commander watched as the stormtrooper hurled the man to his feet; he’d been scrapped and bruised to her satisfaction, as she had pointedly instructed the squad captain to _not_ handle him with care. She smiled slightly, reveling in the symmetry of the universe.

How long ago was it since she had deciphered their code? Thrawn had given her the task of decrypting the strange message sent up from the surface when Alexei Bolotov tried to kill Elinor Savona.

Fascinatingly simple, really.

The Chimaera’s technicians and engineers joked openly that the, then-Head Engineer’s penchant for simplicity was borderline insanity, but to everyone’s surprise - except perhaps, the Grand Admiral’s - it worked.

Klary decided to play it simple.

She merely asked.

W-H-O A-R-E  Y-O-U

Morse Code could not provide any indication of the recipient’s surprise - it consisted only of two signals of different duration - but she suspected it was met with at least some skepticism. Regardless of the shocked faces they made upon hearing the question, in the same code, emanating from behind their moon, the Russians responded.

And thus began, an alliance, or at least a correspondence. Even after Evid Axon and Yuri Gornovek were turned to atoms by beautifully timed turbolaser fire, Greta Klary had continued talking with her ‘friend.’

It had been a strained relationship at first; after all, this person or entity was involved in the attempted murder of an Imperial asset, but over time there was mutual agreement…agreement, that the Chimaera belonged in the hands of someone _other_ than Grand Admiral Thrawn.

And now her ‘friend’ bowed before her although, he had been powerful at one point. When he told her of his plans, it was obvious he was of some import on the planet below her. Her long-distance correspondent had the means to procure assistance from a government agency; he could provide cover for the Imperials should they need a base of operation on the ground. He even volunteered additional funds, if for whatever reason, their fountain of money was to suddenly run dry – which stuck Klary as a thinly veiled threat – but above all that he had…a gift.

Her ‘friend’ was taken down several notches and bereft of his usual position as being the obvious one in charge. Klary walked slowly to him, his eyes studying her carefully. She withdrew her service weapon casually as she stood before him; looked down at it pensively and sighed.

She had her gifts too, so it would seem.

“Tell me, Mr. Harding why did you slither out of your hole to come calling? You do realize I’ve been very interested in killing you since hearing about what happened on the surface?”

“I understand Commander.” Harding nodded solemnly.

“And yet, you’re here. Either you have some plan or you’re incredible stupid, Mr. Harding.” She leaned in closer to him and moved the muzzle of her blaster slowly to his temple, “And you are not that stupid. Are you, Mr. Harding?”

“No Commander, I am not. I would not dream of disappointing you.” He smiled slightly.

Klary moved faster than the stormtrooper guards were expecting; one of them twitched slightly when she brought the butt end of her weapon down on the side of Harding’s head. The man fell to the floor and groaned in pain.

“I don’t expect, you will, at least not again” she commented dryly.

She nodded to the guards – they were to leave the Commander and her ‘friend’ and position themselves outside of the office – their relief was palpable to Harding, as was Klary’s anger and frustration.

“What’s your plan?” she growled lowly as she circled the desk and sat in the chair behind it – the chair that once belonged to an Imperial Grand Admiral.

Harding stood shakily while he worked his jaw. He tasted blood and made a face which seemed to please Klary.

_Do not make the same mistake twice._

“I plan on betraying you.” He smirked at her.

She grinned back at him, “I knew that. Tell me what happens before.”

 

He stared out at the field.

Andrew Savona had one more growing season, maybe two before the farm became non-profitable. Right now, it was barely breaking even; not that this life was ever lavish, but the Savona’s never had champagne wishes and caviar dreams.

He and his sister had grown up believing that hard work was its own reward – the Puritan work ethic would get them far, according to their father. Though, Dad never said anything about escalating costs and subsidized crops that couldn’t hold up in their soil. Negotiating prices with the local grocers had been a gentlemen’s handshake, but when management changed, that agreement was lost.

Elinor had been wiser about those things – very much like their mother – and before she left for college at the ripe age of 14, she created a ledger for their father’s use. Perhaps she foresaw this happening…His sister was wise in so many ways. Their parents used to say she was burdened by both wisdom _and_ intelligence.

He sighed.

It had been two months since her “arrest” and subsequent disappearance. It was like last summer all over again only this time she was pregnant, and she hadn’t prefaced her leave with a good-bye. Her hoard of friends had been out to the farm several times to discuss a legal strategy – file a lawsuit against the FBI for…what exactly, Drew didn’t quite know.

He was not surprised that one of the agents was extremely _aggressive_ in his handling of her case. After her friends described him, he told them about her run-in with him at the diner during her Christmas visit. All five of them had begged him to make a statement and so he did.

It made no different though; the man – Douglas Whittland – claimed to know nothing of her whereabouts. The Bureau did some internal investigation and found no foul play, but rather a breach in several procedures. The agent was appropriately chastised and placed at a desk to push paper.

The 76th precinct in Uptown also came under scrutiny after Elinor was supposedly handed off to two people impersonating police officers. It could just be that the FBI had been rubbed raw and wanted someone else to join in the uncomfortable spotlight.

Misery does love company, after all.

No, the trail was cold.

Two of her friends hired a private investigator, convinced she had gone off to look for the mysterious “him” – the man she was in love with and the father of her child. He had felt a little skeptical over this. Elinor was practical, if she was going to go off searching for someone in parts unknown, she’d at least have contacted him by now…right?

_Yeah, like last summer._

Ellie was smart – she’d be ok.

Wouldn’t she?

She had to think about not just herself but her baby now too. Drew instinctively knew she was still alive – it never occurred to him to worry that she wasn’t until her friends hired that private investigator – some guy they never even laid eyes on – Henry Schlizer.

How do you hire someone you never even met or talked to?

“We emailed him and he’s very knowledgeable” the one called Fink had said – he was also the one that had the crazy fascination with the chickens.

“I dunno. Kin ya trust ‘im?” Drew remembered asking.

“He comes highly recommended and his prices are very fair.” The other one -Allen - had reasoned.

“Welp, if ya guys think so – what’s my share?”

They had refused to take any money from him to support the endeavor, stating it was their idea and they were going to foot the bill – it was obvious that all five of those guys loved her. Strange men too, but Drew was happy Elinor had a network of friends even if their corn was just knee high.

Still, maybe she did run off to look for the baby’s father. People did weird things when they were in love.

Drew sighed again.

He missed Miranda.

_No._

He missed the _idea_ of Miranda.

He shook his head and hopped off his perch on the tractor. It was starting to get dark, so he buttoned up the back of the barn and ambled toward the house. He stopped short though when he saw the SUV with tinted windows in the dirt driveway – and the woman standing next to it.

 

Her eye lids were heavy. She knew she was asleep; a _part_ of her knew it at least.

Yet, Elinor Savona refused to wake.

She searched her surroundings.

She was in a posh dining area; a string quartet played behind her. Wall-to-ceiling windows were on her left and right; she faced a large indoor landscape complete with water fall, fountain and koi pond. Various exotic plants dotted the scene adding further to the appearance of wealth and sophistication.

From humble beginnings and one to never spend frivolously, Ellie did not usually partake in the fine dining experience. On rare occasions, when she worked at TES, the upper managers would take clients out to some of the more expensive Uptown restaurants and request several engineers to attend; on the off chance technical questions were brought up during dinner the leadership team was unable to address. She was requested several times and hated the pretentiousness of the establishments, the snobbery of the patrons; even the maître d’ of one eatery was remembered as intensely egotistical.

Elinor shifted nervously in her seat; looking down at herself as she did so. She was wearing a black sheath dress which reminded her vaguely of the thing Fink had insisted she wear when they went to the club just prior to her finding out…

She caught a chill as someone gently draped a wrap over her shoulders from behind her. She thanked them absently and stopped. If she looked up, and over her shoulder, who would she see?

Elinor had her suspicions. She sat staring straight ahead, refusing to give him the satisfaction; sure enough, Martin Tassi, George Harding or whatever he was calling himself now, stepped out from behind her.

He smirked arrogantly as her eyes tracked him to the seat across from hers. He was too dangerous to let out of her sight, even if this was only a dream.

_Wasn’t it?_

Something Tassi had said…

_“I see you got my message. I’m so glad”_

She divided her energy; part was projecting her strength – her increasing power and confidence – part in tentatively, surreptitiously reaching out to the monster that had situated himself adjacent to her and casually started to peruse the wine menu.

The reality of it hit her hard, as it he had reached across the table and slapped her – he was real; present and tangible – she could kill him here, now.

She shrank back from the idea which caused his wicked grin to return as he motioned for the connoisseur.

“I’ll have the Leflaive Montrachet Grand Cru – the Chardonnay is fine.” He handed the menu to the man, “Elinor, what would you like?”

She continued to stare at him, hoping the force of her gaze would at least goad him into silence.

Harding sighed, “Nothing for her, I’m afraid. She’s a bit dull.”

“Yes, sir.” the other man said, leaving the two alone; Harding smiling evilly, Elinor remaining as still and unemotional as she could under the circumstances.

The two stared at each other for a long moment.

“How is your daughter, Elinor?”

“Go to hell!” she bit out

A few well-dressed couples sitting nearby snapped their heads in her direction, giving her horrified looks and proceeded to whisper; no doubt discussing their distaste. Harding tutted at her.

“Ladies should never resort to such foul language, Dr. Savona.”

She arched her eyebrow, causing the corners of his mouth to twitch up.

“Tell me Tassi, can you get that wine to go? I know a great way you can carry it.”

He laughed, “I have missed you, Elinor.”

“What do you want, Tassi?” she growled.

“What every man in your life wants. The Chimaera.” He was no longer smiling but very serious now; watching her thoughtfully.

“I can’t give it to you.” She leaned back in her seat, feeling like she was finally gaining some control over the situation – she was getting somewhere in all of this – she was going to find some bits of information. “What makes you think I would?”

“Because, it’s either the Chimaera, or your daughter.” He said cocking his head still studying her.

“You can’t touch either.”

“You give me one or the other. If you don’t…I’ll take both, your charming Grand Admiral will end up with a hole in his chest and you…you my dear, well…I don’t wish to spoil the surprise.”

Elinor felt her face contort. She didn’t even know it was happening. The mental defenses she had placed – like two hands out in front of her to ward off an attacking dog were suddenly yanked away to the side and his mental assault was on her. The strength of the incursion was enough to take her breath away.

She screamed.

He dug into her mind, trying to worm his way into her subconscious – looking, searching, scouring her awareness for something…something – what was he looking for?

_The Chimaera._

NO!

“You really don’t know? He hasn’t told you where the key is! Interesting.”

She pushed back and he shifted his interest to…

Elinor felt his surprise and delight, “You named her Athena! Brilliant – the Goddess of War!”

She didn’t know where it came from, somewhere deep, not quite hidden but not on the surface either – it reared up and crashed forward toward Tassi’s onslaught

_Wisdom and courage!_

“She was named for wisdom and courage!” Elinor screamed across the divide of energy that seemed to now separate herself from Tassi.

“Tell yourself that – _lie_ to yourself, if it makes you feel better, Elinor. I know you enjoy this power just as much as I do! In the end you _and Athena_ will be mine!”

_NO!_

“NO!”

_You’ll never let that happen, Elinor!_

_You can’t stop it, Elinor!_

“NO!”

_Elinor?_

She was still screaming, sobbing and hysterical upon waking. Someone was holding her to focus her from her panic-stricken state; Athena was crying.

“Elinor?”

She had to get to Athena! Had to get to the Chimaera. Had to stop herself from turning into a monster.

_You can’t stop it, Elinor!_

“NO!”

She tried to stand; tried to grab her baby; run and hide as she had done her entire life.

“Elinor!” The Grand Admiral’s commanding voice was the only thing that was able to bring her out of her delirium - followed closely behind it was Tabitha Yermentic’s needle – to lessen the after effects of the seizure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi,
> 
> I come with more problems...it's called a really really really long Part III that isn't finished - it's leading me to believe it will bleed into a Part IV or I'm just going to ramble on forever and turn into my grandmother who obsessively talked to the TV [replace TV with laptop] (e.g. she'd yell at her soup operas - "No no, honey he's a bad man - don't go with him" - which is only made funnier if you knew she had a super thick NY accent). 
> 
> I'm disappointed because Part III turned into slow sap - and it's only starting to pick up speed 13 chapters into it! ((screaming into pillow)) so once I get the thing build completely and edited I'll end up posting the whole darn thing just out of pure frustration with myself (apologies in advance!) 
> 
> Some highlights for Part III -so far (subject to change if I get mad)  
> Drew becomes more of a major player in the story  
> There's a lot of trust issues between Elinor and Thrawn.  
> Whittland becomes a double agent  
> Pyrondi falls for a run of the mill guy  
> Ellie's entourage steals stuff  
> The Imperials go through a convoluted process to do something that a lightsaber could have solved (because Thrawn likes art)  
> Klary still doesn't have that damn key...and she and Harding disagree over how to get it.  
> Harding keeps changing his mind on what he can get away with...the gift is fickle 
> 
> Also: I have a new sense of urgency! My old job opened up - apparently a lot of people in the new "organization" are superiorly pissed at the new "management" and have called it quits...so I, like a fool applied to get my old job back...I find out if I'm qualified enough to warrant an interview by the end of the month. Hahahahahaha.


	42. Believe Me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning:  
> None
> 
> In This Chapter:  
> Drew meets Pyrondi  
> Hearing voices - it's the Baby Maker...  
> In-laws and out-laws?  
> It runs in the family  
> Tied up - Trust issues  
> What's normal anyways?  
> Drew assumes the worst  
> She was telling the truth...

 

She had watched him walk toward her. After all her experiences she was surprised at her nervousness. Andrew Savona was tall and lanky, his skin golden from long days in the sun and had deep set dark eyes. The man had dark hair – it wasn’t obvious, but it was curly - his hat covered most of it.

He was very handsome.

Drew walked over carefully, a smile playing on his lips, “Howdy ma’am, kin I help ya?”

“Hello,” she smiled and felt her face warm. “Are you Andrew Savona – Elinor’s brother?”

The smile turned into a slight frown instantly, “I am.”

“My name is Crissa Pyrondi,” she offered her hand for him to shake; he looked down at his own, hastily wiped it on his pant leg and took her pro-offered hand, looking cautious.

He had strong hands.

_Nice hands._

“Ms. Pyrondi, didja know my sister?”

“I did, yes.” Crissa smiled reassuringly, “We worked together last summer, actually.”

Drew’s face lite up, “Last summer? Ya mean at tha’ military base?”

“Yes, sir.” Pyrondi bobbed her head.

Elinor’s brother simply stared at her for a long moment, looking equal parts confused and embarrassed. Suddenly he seemed to shake himself out of his reverie and turned to the house; then back to the woman standing in his driveway.

“Uh, where ‘er my manners, could I offer ya a glass a water or somethin’?”

_I wouldn’t mind feeling your hands again._

Crissa could feel herself blush, “Please.”

 

Drew offered her a seat at the kitchen table and a tall glass of cold water, but he didn’t waste time once she was comfortably situated, still blushing.

“So ya worked with Ellie?”

“Yes. We worked on the same project.” Pyrondi said carefully.

Even with the distraction of possibly finding out about Elinor’s time away, he couldn’t help but notice Crissa Pyrondi was pretty, especially when she blushed.

“So, didja know the guy that…” Drew trailed off.

How were you supposed to ask this question?

_Did you know the man my sister was sleeping with?_

_Did you know the guy who broke her heart?_

“That she was in love with?” she finished for him.

“Yeah! _That_!”

“Yes.” Pyrondi bobbed her head.

“Ya know he’s a father, right? Elinor’s havin’ his baby.”

Pyrondi nodded, “Yes”

Drew’s brow furrowed, he cocked his head and crossed his arms over his chest.

“I wadn’t aware it was public knowledge.”

“It’s not.” She smiled – the expression traveling beautifully to her eyes.

_Damn, she was even prettier when she smiled._

“Alright then, so Mr. Baby Maker knows?”

Crissa laughed.

_Damn, she was pretty when she laughed too._

“Yes, he knows. Elinor and –“ she struggled to maintain a straight face “-Mr. Baby Maker are safe and the baby is safe.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Ellie an’ Baby Maker are together?” Drew had uncrossed his arms, taken off his hat and combed his fingers through his wavy hair.

He noticed Crissa Pyrondi started to blush again.

“I didn’t say they were together.” Her brow wrinkled; eyes narrowing in confusion.

Drew lifted his own eyebrows at her, “Ms. Pyrondi?”

“Yes?”

“Where’s my sister?”

“She’s safe.” Pyrondi’s face was now starting to turn a strange purple color.

_Bet she looks good wearing dark green…_

Drew suddenly took notice of the woman’s white blouse, black dress pants and blazer. It was his turn to flush red.

“Ya know where she is.” It wasn’t a question, rather a statement to be confirmed.

She stared at him but said nothing.

“Listen lady, I’ve had the FBI pokin’ ‘round, I got a PI lookin’ into her missin’ persons case, I kin call the sheriff right now an’ have yer hind end taken in fer questionin’. Ya could be charged wit wit’holdin’ information pert’nent to an ongoin’ investigation or somethin’”

He was bluffing of course, the sheriff would probably tell him to go piss up a rope, and he had no idea if the last part was even a thing. It didn’t help that his voice cracked in the middle of his tirade and his face was still red over thinking of Crissa Pyrondi in a dark green dress

“I can tell you that she’s safe, her baby is safe, and she misses you.”

“Yeah? Why dun’t she just tell me all that, herself?”

“Because it’s not really safe for her to come out of hiding.” Pyrondi exhaled suddenly in relief, as if she understood now why Drew was upset.

“Wait! I thought ya said she was safe!?” Drew shook his head in frustration.

“She is. _Now_. But if she comes out of hiding, she may _not_ be.” She clarified.

“Who n’ hell’s after her?” Drew scowled, “Why not just go inta protective custody er somethin’?”

“The person who’s after her -uh. No.” Pyrondi cocked her head, “Never mind.”

“Wha?” Drew’s eyes narrowed.

“Nothing!” Pyrondi said louder, almost yelling it; her voice an octave higher than it was previously.

Either the woman was neurotic or….

_She’s hearing voices._

He sighed as if in defeat and walked over to her side of the table, she rolled her neck slightly – making a show of stretching her shoulder blades.

“Lemme get ya a refill, Ms. Pyrondi.”

Leaning down to pick up the glass, he casually turned his head…

Yep, she was hearing voices alright – but they weren’t hers.

He moved to stand up straight but instead grabbed her upper arm. He felt bad even as he was doing it.

_You just don’t grab women!_

His parents didn’t raise him to be some pervert, but desperate times called for desperate measures. He needed to find Ellie and this stranger was dangling bits and pieces of information in front of him; she obviously knew more than what she was saying.

Drew pulled the little devise out of her ear. She didn’t put up a fight at all and he wondered if she had intentionally tipped him off.

He shot her a furtive look; as scathing a glare as he could muster under the circumstances - it was difficult though because she was awfully pretty, and he did just technically assault her. He put the earbud in his ear and listened, half expecting the thing to self-destruct like in Mission: Impossible.

There was a man’s voice – smooth, commanding, the accent was funny – maybe European; he sounded cocky.

“ – ander I suggest you leave as soon as possible.”

“Yeah? Maybe I like havin’ her ‘round.” Drew growled.

There was a pause.

“Mr. Savona, a pleasure.”

“I might say the same, if I knew who I was talkin’ to.”

“All in good time.”

_Chicken shit._

“Right.” Drew growled

“Would you reconnect me to Lieutenant Commander Pyrondi, please?”

Drew snorted and handed the little earpiece over to the woman sitting stonily at his kitchen table.

“Here ya go, _Lieutenant Commander_.”

Pyrondi’s nose wrinkled as she sheepishly placed the bud back in her right ear, cocking her head slightly.

“Yes sir,” she whispered, sounding defeated.

A pause.

“No, sir.”

Her eyes widened suddenly as she looked up at Drew who, once again cocked his head and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Uh…yes, sir?”

Another shorter pause.

“Yes, sir, one moment.” She then took the devise out of her ear and gave it back to the man standing next to her, giving him a pained look, “He wants to talk to you.”

“What’s ‘is name.”

She pursed her lips, “I’ll let _him_ tell you his name, but you referred to him earlier as Mr. Baby Maker.”

His eyes widened and he grabbed the ear bud shoving it in his auditory canal with such force he winced, “Where’s my sister, you dead beat sonava bitch?”

 

Grand Admiral Thrawn’s eyebrow quirked up slightly.

“Mr. Savona, your sister is safe.”

“Yeah I got that. I’m askin’ where’s she at, _not_ how ‘er health is.” The man’s voice was strained.

Thrawn exhaled. Elinor told him, her brother would be persistent. “My apologies. I cannot go in to details.”

There was a pause.

“Ya bastard, ya don’t really know where she is, do ya?”

“I assure you –“

“Ya left her didn’t ya!? Lemme tell ya if I ever git my hands on ya, I’ll tie yer ass up and beat the livin’ shit outta ya. Wha? Ya got a girl ‘n every port or somethin’? Got kids all over the place?”

The Chiss let the man have his rant; rolling his eyes

“Mr. Sav –“

“Welp, after I’m done with ya, ya ain’t gunna be makin’ any more kids.”

The Grand Admiral could not keep the smugness out of his voice, “I do not believe Elinor would appreciate that.”

There was another pause, in which Thrawn could almost feel the man’s fury through the comm system.

“Ya listen ta me ya fuc-“

Thrawn terminated the connection, sighed heavily and checked his blaster setting.

 

Athena had just fallen asleep when Pyrondi called. Crissa didn’t go into details; simply requesting that she bring the infant and the Jedi to the clearing. The black SUV arrived abruptly, kicking gravel in its wake as the driver slammed on the breaks. The Lieutenant Commander rolled down the window and shot them a look that could only mean one thing. The Grand Admiral was up to something.

“You’d better get in.” she called resignedly to Elinor

“What did he do?” she asked the Imperial.

“Which one?” Pyrondi responded sourly.

Elinor sighed shaking her head; Ezra shrugging as he climbed into the back.

When Thrawn insisted he be the first to make contact with Drew to gauge his reaction to the _concept_ of Athena not being entirely human, Elinor resisted.

Oh, how she resisted.

Andrew was her brother, _she_ should be the one to tell him. It would be less of a shock coming from her.

Thrawn had claimed it was for safety reasons – they could not risk pulling Athena out of the relative safety the shuttle they had moved randomly to remote wooded areas outside of Uptown to maintain anonymity.

Ellie had insisted she didn’t need Athena to make her case to Drew, yet Thrawn remained unconvinced. In the end, she could not argue with keeping their daughter hidden – it was the safest option.

Yet, here she was, with Athena, Ezra and Pyrondi speeding to her family’s farm.

“Crissa what happened?” she asked tiredly.

“Has anyone ever told you, you and your brother have a _lot_ in common?”

“Crissa?”

“It’s _really_ uncanny!” Pyrondi hedged.

Elinor clenched her teeth, “Lieutenant Commander Pyrondi, you tell me wha-“.

“The Grand Admiral just went in to talk to him, that’s all…”

Ezra snickered from the back seat.

 

She walked into the house to find Drew tied to a chair blind folded. He was still unconscious from the stun blast.

“What did you do?” she hissed at the armored figure sitting casually at the kitchen table.

Thrawn shrugged; before he could explain however, Crissa stepped into the living room behind her.

“It was actually me that stunned him.” She said guiltily, “The Grand Admiral just tied him up.”

“Great, so you’re Butch Cassidy and the Green Bean Can!?” she shrieked!

“You will need to calm him.” Thrawn sounded unhappy.

_You could always stun him again!_

Drew groaned. Ezra had entered the house now carrying Athena who had been jarred awake over her mother’s distress; likely sensing it through the bond they seemed to have that was steadily increasing in strength. The infant gurgled as Ezra handed her to Elinor. The movements around him, caused the bound man to sit up a little straighter and attempt to break free of his restraints.

“Wha th’ hell?” He drawled. “Who’s there?”

Elinor turned to Thrawn. He nodded once.

She cleared her throat, “Drew, it’s me.”

“El-Elinor?”

“Yes. I’m here.”

“Wha’ the hell, Ellie! Where the hell ya been? We been lookin’ all over th’ place for ya! An’ why the hell er my eyes covered? Tha’ woman shot me! Where th’ hell am I? Ellie, tha’ sonava bitch tha’ ran off on ya, I’m gunna kill ‘im. He’s a smug bastard. Ya deserve better, Elinor. I swear - “

She could feel Ezra’s mirth, Pyrondi’s horror and Thrawn’s…concurrence?

“ANDREW!”

His eyes were still covered by the towel, but his mouth hung ajar, in shock.

The armored man at the table suddenly stood and motioned for the others to leave. He looked down at the infant in Elinor’s arms, brushed her forehead gently; then moving his gauntleted hand up, he stroked her mother’s cheek.

Thrawn leaned in touching his head to hers, “Be careful.” He whispered.

She nodded gravely.

To be certain, she placed Athena, already lulled back to sleep on the floor, out of sight. She gave him one more meaningful look; he knew for certain if Savona rebuked her, rejected their child, made light of the choices and sacrifices she had made, it would break Elinor’s heart. It would hurt her deeply and it would wound him terribly to see her so grieved.

 

The sound of people moving, a few whispers then it was, from what he could tell, just Elinor.

“Drew?” her voice sounded tense, like she had been crying.

“Yeah.”

“I’m going to take the towel off so you can see, ok?”

“Fine.” He growled.

She was too thin.

That was the first thing he remembered thinking.

When she smiled at him, she had lines around her mouth that she hadn’t had before. Her hair was longer, it framed her face – perhaps that’s why she looked so gaunt.

She wasn’t pregnant.

_She lost the baby!_

He couldn’t help himself. He broke down when he saw her tiny mid-section. It was like Miranda losing Jack all over again.

She hugged him as well as she could, considering he was still tied up.

He was supposed to be the big brother. She needed him. He had lost a child too, he could sympathize.

He knew he could help her, he just needed to get himself together, first.

“Drew. Shhhh. Drew. It’s ok.” Elinor soothed.

“Ellie, it’s _not_ ok.”

“The baby is fine. She’s _fine_. She’s completely healthy”

“Whadda mean? You’d be less than 23 weeks by now.”

She nodded solemnly, “Yes but she was a little different, remember? She was growing really fast.”

“How big was she?” he sniffed.

“Seven pounds, two ounces.” There was obvious pride in her voice.

Her brother’s mouth dropped open, “I’m confused. How’d tha’ happen?”

Elinor smiled patiently, “I need to talk to you about a few things.”

“No shit. Ya kin start by tellin’ me why some woman shot me, why I’m not dead and why I’m tied up.”

“Uh. First I – I I have to tell you that Athena’s father wasn’t sure whether to trust you.”

“Baby’s name’s Athena?”

She smiled and bobbed her head.

Drew smiled back at her but then frowned as soon as her last statement hit home.

“Wait, ‘er father dun’t trust me?” he looked at his sister incredulously, “Hey, he’s the guy that went missin’ ‘n action. If someone shouldn’t be trusted it’s that sonava-“

Elinor shot him a look.

“-gun.” He finished looking petulant.

“There’s a reason for the concern, Drew”

“Fine.” He sighed in annoyance, “So when do I git to meet my niece?”

“That was one of Thrawn’s concerns. He and Athena aren’t really like us, _per se_.”

“Thrawn, bein’ the guy?” Drew furrowed his brow

“Yes, Thawn’s the _guy_.”

And for some reason Ellie found this characterization of the Grand Admiral extremely hilarious. She started giggling while Drew sat staring at her, brow still wrinkled, a look of concerned confusion on his face.

“By the sound a ‘is voice he’s a smug bastard. Definitely not from the sticks. He European?” Drew was digging for information.

Elinor sighed, “Thrawn comes from an entirely different world, Drew.”

“Ya mean like he’s rich?”

She shook her head “No. No, he’s not rich, really. No…”

“Ok? Ya know I don’t care if he ain’t white, Ellie. That don’t matter at all ta me. Ya don’t judge another person by the color a’ their skin. That just ain’t right.”

“Good! That’s good.” She bobbed her head enthusiastically, “How do you feel about eye color?”

“Huh?”

“What if his eyes weren’t a _normal_ color”

“Okaaay?” he shrugged exaggeratedly and moved his head from side to side as if to indicate the house and surrounding farm. “An’ ya think all this is _normal_? I got a chicken wit a comb, an’ spurs, that crows like a damn banshee but the thing lays eggs. Ain’t _none_ of this is _normal_.” And then as an afterthought he mumbled, “but the eggs sure taste good.”

He was getting frustrated and she silently thanked Thrawn for tying him up; felt a pang of guilt over the thought.

“Drew, do you believe in _aliens_?” She whispered the last word.

“Wha?”

“If I-I told you that…that Thrawn wasn’t human – that-that he was an _alien_ , would you believe me?”

“Elinor Elisabeth, I’m gettin’ mighty tired of all this. I understand ya may not want me involved” his voice cracked with emotion, “That’s all fine, but at least tell me straight up. Ya don’t need ta be carryin’ on! Aliens!? Sheesh – n’ educated woman an’ ya tryin’ ta pull the wool over m’ eyes with _aliens_.”

“Andrew, please!” she begged.

“No, Ellie. I’m tired. Ya disappear last summer fer months on en’ an’ now ya show up sayin’ ya gave birth halfway through yer pregnancy – Hell, ya could be on drugs like ‘Randa was –“

“NO!” Elinor screamed at him, but he continued on his tirade.

“-and I just don’t want all tha’, Elinor. I just don’t. Until ya get yer act t’gether I want ya ta go get some help.”

Elinor stood gapping at him, tearing welling in her eyes, “Drew, please.” She pleaded, “Why don’t you believe me?”

He stared down at his lap and shook his head. He just couldn’t watch his sister go through what Miranda had gone through – it would _literally_ kill him.

This was about survival, he told himself.

“Just go, Elinor.”

Ellie suddenly turned; he remembered belatedly he was tied up – he’d be a complete coward now if he called her back to ask her to release him. To his surprise, she bent down on the other side of the couch picked up a collection of blankets from the worn-out cushions and slowly, cautiously walked toward him with the suddenly squirming bundle.

The noise that came out of him resembled the sound he heard the cows make when their udders got too full. It was a pathetic noise that said, “Please, dear sir, milk me!”

“Whamawhooo?”

His sister leaned down to show him her child; tears streaming down her sunken face. He looked at his new niece and made the same sound again.

She’d been telling the truth.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello,
> 
> Well...it's finished. It's a bit crazy and all over the place. I wanted to do so much with it - it played out better in my mind that it did when I wrote it up...but I'm posting it nonetheless.  
> The first few chapters are fluff and fodder and are like watching concrete crack. Which is why I'm posting a bunch of chapters all at once. I'm editing the last three chapters now. Thank you all for you're continued patience, perseverance and willingness to deal with this nuttiness! :) It's hereditary. I got it from the family dog.   
> You're very kind to put up with me.  
> Thank you.


	43. Awkward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings:  
> Kinda NSFW? Close your eyes it will be over in a minute.  
> But there is some discussion of miscarriage - could be painful.
> 
> In This Chapter:
> 
> One eyed, one horned, flying purple people eater - Drew don't care.  
> Ellie has always been different  
> Milk maid  
> Pyrondi is ok (she likes your hands and she's not an alien)  
> Family planning - Yermentic's "talk"  
> The loft, the rat and the missing undergarment.   
> Ezra can "talk" to Athena?  
> Drew vs. the Grand Admiral

 

It didn’t take long at all.

Andrew Savona had joked when his ex-wife was expecting, that the baby could be a one eyed, one horned, flying purple people eater (just like the song!) for all he cared.

So long as the child was healthy, he didn’t want anything else!

Boy? Girl? Didn’t matter to him. He just wanted to be a father.

He never got the chance.

But now…

Now, he could be an _uncle_.

And she didn’t have one eye – instead they were both a beautiful red – she didn’t have a horn – she had straight black hair that was thick, wild and stuck up in every direction – she didn’t fly or have wings, and she wasn’t purple – she was pale blue, the color of the sky right before sunset. According to Ellie her diet was normal – no people eating.

He loved her instantly.

She reminded Drew of his sister when she was a baby – Athena looked very much like her…well, other than the obvious differences.

“How’s my special girl? Yer a purty little thing, ya know that?” he wiggled his eyebrows at her as she gurgled even louder, “Yeah, ya gunna tell Uncle Drew all ‘bout it?”

Elinor sat at the kitchen table watching in wonderment and giggling at his unguarded display of affection for the baby girl; he had plopped down on the couch holding her – both were cooing, obviously enthralled with each other.

“Yeah, I see yer mama over there laughin’ at us. She thinks Uncle Drew don’t see ‘er but I do. Yes, ma’am, I do. I do, purty girl.”

Ellie was finally able to stifle her laughter, “So, Uncle Drew? I still have some more explaining to do.”

“Yeah…I suppose ya got one hellava story.”

She inhaled shakily, “I wanted to apologize though. I know I’ve put you through hell. I’m sorry for that. I could make the excuse that I’ve been busy” she gestured to the cooing baby with a small chuckle, “but that’s a poor excuse.”

Drew smiled, and looked back at Athena who yawned showing him, for the first time, her more prominent forehead ridges. “ ‘S ok Elinor, ya done good!” he smirked.

Ellie smirked back, “I had help.”

“Yeah, ‘bout that…when do I get to meet _him_?”

“Soon, I hope you understand why he was hesitant.”

“I guess.” This was Drew’s noncommittal response. She had no idea what Thrawn had said but her brother wasn’t exactly happy with him.

Instead of querying and picking at a potential point of contention, she pushed on, “I need to explain a few things, first.”

“Yeaaaah. Ya prolly ought to so, shoot.”

She cringed at his choice of words but sat down next to him on the couch. She took a deep breath.

She would start at the beginning. Over a year ago – with the dream – those beautiful red eyes that had led her here to this moment.

Elinor smiled.

 

Andrew Savona knew his sister had dreams. He had known they weren’t like normal dreams. When she was three, she had suddenly taken a strange interest in one of the chickens. They jokingly called the hen Eggs because she would always sit next to their one and only pig, a happy-go-lucky potbelly they named Bacon.

Eggs and Bacon would sit under the lean-to for hours, cuddled up next to each other like they were best friends and not two instrumental parts of human breakfast. Ellie had just one day, gotten it into her head that she was going to go over, sit next to them and be musketeer number three. Their mother went over to check on her, convinced she’d be asleep but instead found her daughter crying next to the little Rhode Island Red hen nestled up against her.

She sobbed and sobbed to Mom; saying that she’d seen Eggs fly away and she was trying to convince the chicken to stay. Neither Mom nor Dad could talk any sense into her, and for days Ellie toddled around the farm anxiously.

About three days after her strange behavior started, she woke up in the early morning hours screaming. She ran out to the coop, their father hot on her heels, in time to see an owl grabbing the remains of one of the chickens – Eggs had gotten out of the hen house and was on her way to perch next to Bacon’s pen.

The next day, Elinor sat in the lean-to with the potbelly. Both seemed lost; the pig grunted occasionally as if calling for his friend and the little girl next to him was heartbroken.

Occasionally there were other things. She’d warn him about pop quizzes when he was in high school. She’d know exactly when they’d get their first frost and although she never said anything, Drew suspected Ellie could sense their mother’s illness before she even got sick.

Probably the most chilling indication that Elinor Savona’s dreams were traumatizingly true and real, was when she came home in the middle of her post-graduate work at MIT.

She made the drive from Cambridge overnight - fourteen hours - and when she arrived, she looked like she hadn’t slept in days. Her eyes seemed sunken because the circles under them were so large and dark. She trembled but she wouldn’t sit still; it was as if she was terrified of going to sleep.

Ellie insisted Dad go to the doctor right away.

Immediately.

No questions.

She had begged, pleaded, cried until the old man agreed. Anything to ease her mind, which was obviously disturbed, but as they approached Mary’s Hospital in Uptown, she collapsed.

After CT scans, MRIs, EKGs, and then finally an EEG, a nice man by the name of Dr. Joy came along.

Temporal Lobe Complex Partial Epileptic Seizure Disorder.

Elinor didn’t seem to care. Her focus was entirely on their father.

_Had Dad seen a doctor yet?_

_When is Dad going to see a doctor?_

_How is Dad feeling?_

“Ellie Bean, ya gotta rest. Dr. Joy said stress ‘s only gunna make it worse.”

“I know that, but you need to see a specialist, Dad.” She choked back tears as she sat in her own hospital bed; the EEG wires twisted to one side of her head.

“Dun ya worry, Ellie. I’ll be fine.”

That night Dad collapsed.

They said the cancer had started in his lungs and had spread. Thomas never smoked, never drank, did pot once – because, hey-it-was-the-‘60’s - and was kept physically fit by a farmer’s life. He died very old; a husk of the man he once was, but before he left, he told Elinor never to be afraid of her own self.

It was advice his daughter hadn’t taken.

 

Victor/Victoria - the hermaphroditic chicken started to crow.

Ellie heard the farmer’s “call to arms” and scowled apologetically as she moved to take the sleeping baby out of Drew’s arms.

“I’m so sorry, Drew. I lost track of time. I can help out – are you planting today?”

He moved away protectively blocking his sister from Athena; hoping to keep the sleeping infant in his arms a little longer, “Nah, it’ll keep. I like bein’ a baby cushion and I wanted to hear about…things.”

She inhaled deeply, “Well…”

“Yeah…”

She bobbed her head into the silence that followed. Ellie had just given him a lot of information in a very short period of time. The best thing for him to do was either go to sleep or work while his mind processed everything she told him – space ships, alien body guards, Russian oligarchs, rogue FBI agents, and his sister right in the thick of it all.

She said as much and _strongly_ suggested he choose sleep over work.

Drew being Drew chose neither.

“I think I’m gunna stay here wit my niece a little while longer.”

She smirked and did her best impression of him; furrowing her brow, cocking her head, and crossing her arms over her chest, “C’mon man, ya got a farm ta run. Cow’s ain’t gunna milk themselves.”

She snickered at her own joke.

“Ha, they’ll just be real happy ta see me later, tha’s all.”

“Ok. Fine. I’ll go milk them, then!” She said defiantly

“Ok.”

“Wha?” She looked shaken. Normally threatening to assume Drew’s duties spurred him to action but he continued to stare at the sleeping baby with hearts in his eyes. She had just walked into a trap.

“Ya have fun, now. Tell the gals I said ‘hi’.” He glanced up; smiling mischievously.

 

Ellie came back in when Crissa Pyrondi returned. The woman who’d shot him apologized; blushing profusely the entire time. Ellie swore the Lieutenant Commander was trustworthy, claiming she had helped in Athena’s delivery.

He forgave her of course, there was no permanent damage done – whatever she shot him with didn’t leave any mark just one hell of a headache and a couple sore muscles. Plus, he had acted like a jerk. Drew also had to admit he found her company more than tolerable and he wondered vaguely if she was an alien in disguise.

He wasn’t sure if he should ask – Would it be rude? Would she take offense and shoot him again?

Drew shrugged mentally.

_What the hell?_

“So umh, Crissa are ya a um…I um just wonderin’ if yer um um…“

The woman looked at him with beautiful dark blue eyes – they contrasted greatly with her light blonde hair and he again wondered what she’d look like in a dark green dress.

“Areyaaalien?”

“I’m sorry?” she cocked her head in question.

“Uhhh…” he gaped at her.

Elinor strode by Pyrondi, stopped gave him a “you’re-an-idiot _”_ look, and casually whispered something into her ear. The woman laughed.

“No, no Mr. Savona. I’m human.”

Drew grunted, “Oh, ok. Ya know ya kin call me Drew.”

She grinned and blushed even more.

His sister rolled her eyes, confirmed Athena was still asleep and decided to leave; even she knew her presence would make things even _more_ awkward than what they already were. She had three more cows to milk anyways.

 

She had finished up with the tenth and final cow – Marigold, a gentle soul who chewed lazily on grass hay while Ellie removed Drew’s one and only machine - and grabbed the canister. Five canisters total.

_Not bad._

She hefted each one up into her brother’s pickup – they’d be ready to go to the “vat” in town and she toyed with the idea of taking them herself but knew there would be _multiple_ objections. Drew’s displeasure would be minimal compared to the Imperial’s.

Ellie shook her head and went back into the barn. Right on cue, as if he heard her internal debate, Thrawn stepped out from behind one of the pillars to her left.

“No, I’m not going anywhere.” she smiled wryly as she made her way to him, suddenly cognizant of the strange setting. Here she was with a Chiss Grand Admiral, in a barn, fifty feet away from the cow she just milked.

He wrapped her up in his arms, “I am relieved to hear it.”

She signed into his chest, “Thank you for sending Athena in, I know it was a risk.”

Elinor felt the rumble of his voice, “Your brother is a _relatively_ reasonable man. If presented with evidence, he would be more likely to listen.”

She chuckled but sobered quickly

“I still haven’t told him about _the plan_.” She murmured.

“I was not aware that we had a finalized plan,” his voice was teasing but Elinor could tell there was a hint of concern in his smooth, suave tenor.

“It’s not final, but it’s a start.”

“Yes.”

He gently smoothed her hair away from her cheek, it had gotten long. She was gaining her weight back; after three weeks post-partum her face had started to fill in a bit and her arms and legs were no longer quite so boney.

His thoughts trickled toward guilt.

If he had the foresight, he would have sent Yermentic down early to provide her care. It should have been obvious to him that, with a hybrid such as Athena, Elinor would need additional attention during her pregnancy – attention, that the Imperial doctor could easily provide. But Yermentic had been incapacitated before aid could be rendered and Thrawn had been relinquished of command by mutineers; locked away, and tortured.

He looked back at the ordeal as a learning experience.

He had Elinor, he had Athena and the Chimaera remained safe…for now.

There were always losses in war, however. Loyal crew members were likely segregated from the usurpers, there would ultimately be damage to trust throughout the ranks and of course, there was the death of Captain Gilad Pellaeon.

Thrawn stiffened at the memory.

Elinor, feeling his change in posture, shifted in his arms and looked up at him with her warm brown eyes, “Should we introduce you to my brother?”

“Yes, but perhaps after he rests. He may find so many non-humans to be _overwhelming_.”

She smiled knowingly and sighed, “I should go back and check on Athena then.”

“Perhaps not _quite_ yet.” he smiled slightly.

“Oh, what did you have in mind?” Elinor tucked her chin down and raised her eyebrows; smiling at him coyly.

The Grand Admiral grinned devilishly.

 

She had clambered up to the loft and tossed several bundles of straw down, he flung up several old horse blankets and climbed up after her. Thankfully it wasn’t too cold, but she was still hesitant. Pregnancy had not been kind to her body – she heard many women came out of the experience with stretch marks – but what she had instead was jutting hip bones and thighs with sagging flesh.

He didn’t care.

Yermentic had told her to be kind to herself, she would fill in and be back to her old self soon. The doctor had also given her “the talk” again, much to Ellie’s horror.

Imperial medicine was great, but you had to use your head, the older woman had told her.

“Don’t think with your hormones, because that’s what he’ll be thinking with.” Yermentic admonished.

“I’m sorry?”

“A lot of males love fertile females – makes them feel like their hyperdrives are all tuned up.” The doctor pursed her lips.

Elinor stared at her blankly.

“I don’t believe it! You just had a baby! You know this! I know you know this! _You did it_!”

Yermentic grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her

“Will you stop it!” Ellie screwed up her face, “I know what I did!”

“Good! Now, you’ll probably be doing _it_ _again_!”

The concept of family planning never occurred to her and she made a mental note to broach the subject with Thrawn, but there was never a private moment.

Their little ship was always full. Cran, Pyrondi, Ezra, Dizon, Yermentic, Tobevoh, Wilton, Yates, Ovally, Toldera, herself, Athena and the Grand Admiral were all crammed into the Lambda class shuttle, discreetly stashed in the forest 20 miles to the west…which was why when the “private moment” presented itself they decided to capitalize on it.

 

He had her in his lap; held the nape of her neck with one hand, the other braced the middle of her back as she writhed in ecstasy against him. Her back arched and her head tilted back into his hand allowing him to clench a fist full of her hair to pull her back toward him. He pressed his lips to her throat, hearing and feeling her moans as he allowed his own pleasure to crest.

She lay on his shoulder, her breathing finally calmed; her eyelids heavy. He covered them both with the other blanket, despite the copious amounts of hay and straw surrounding them, he suspected she would eventually chill after their exertion.

The others would likely notice both his and Elinor’s disappearance soon and would start looking for them, but Thrawn reasoned they could afford a few more moments of solitude. The loft was quite high and provided a good deal of discretion…

“Hey, Ellie ya up there?”

Elinor’s eyes snapped open and her head popped up off his shoulder, her face was contorted in horror and already warming in embarrassment. If the Grand Admiral had been fully clothed, and not also in the same potentially awkward situation, he’d have thrown back his head and laughed heartily at her expression alone.

“Gawwh, Yeah! I’m up here! Sorry I’ll be right down, I fell asleep! I’m coming.”

“Alright then, Athena’s still asleep. Crissa’s watchin’ her.” Drew drawled as Elinor hastily grabbed her clothes.

Thrawn haughtily smirked at her, as he handed her, her blouse. She gave him a severe look.

“Great!” she called over her shoulder.

“Yeah, so, what’s the story wit Crissa?” her brother continued as she searched frantically around for her panties.

Thrawn was propped up on his elbows looking around casually, seemingly unfazed by things.

“Uhhh …what do you mean?” Elinor was starting to panic. Thrawn shrugged nonchalantly, cocked his head and smiled slightly. She glared at him, making clawing motions at him which only made his smile wider.

“Ya know…is she seein’ anyone?” Drew asked with hopeful embarrassment in his voice.

She had just given up on her underwear and was pulling her jeans on, “Uh, don’t think so. Actually, I’m pretty sure not.” She grabbed her socks and boots, “I can ask if you want me too?”

“Would ya?”

“Of course! I think it’d be really good for both of you!” Now that it was just her boots she could focus more on the conversation. Of course, there was still Thrawn lounging next to her, naked and smirking at her.

After this was over, the Grand Admiral would be getting a proper reprimand.

“If I did take ‘er on a date where could we go?”

“Uhhh.”

Drew sighed suddenly, “Kin I come up? You stanin’ up there an’ me yellin’ is drivin’ me crazy an’ makin’ my neck hurt.”

“Oooh, nah - it’s really dusty up here, plus I _swear_ ” she turned around looking directly at the Imperial Grand Admiral, “I saw a giant _rat_.”

He arched one eye brow as an amused smile played about his lips.

“Oh Guhhh” her brother made a revolted sound in the back of his throat.

Drew _hated_ rats.

“I’ll come down.” She descended the ladder carefully.

“So, ah where would you want to go on a date with Crissa?” Ellie squinted up at him. He wasn’t looking at her though. His sister followed his gaze.

_Oh no._

Laying on top of a happily unaware, Marigold as she chewed her mid-day meal, were Elinor’s panties.

She let out a shaky breath. “So I’ll go ask Crissa right now if –“

“Nah, hold on.” Drew waved at her absently and walked toward Marigold.

Elinor remembered vaguely flying out a tube covered in goo, half naked; landing with her legs spread open right in front of Thrawn. At the time she thought it was the most embarrassing moment of her oh-so-very-sheltered life.

_Oh, to be young, and naïve again._

She swallowed, fully expecting to stammer out a pathetic excuse of preferring to sleep in the nude. Instead she was saved by a large rodent.

The thing darted fearfully from one side of the barn to the other, slipping between Marigolds stocky legs, squeaking and scampering up one of the beams to the rafters above.

“Gaaah!” Drew swatted at the ground long after it had run past but the cow next to him had moved hastily – or as quickly as a cow could – her eyes rolling in alarm.

While her brother whipped his head around looking to the ground for more furry pests, Elinor took the opportunity to subtly grab the undergarment her lover so carelessly threw. She stepped back slightly, casually dropping them behind one of the bundles of straw, out of view. Drew and Marigold were none the wiser.

Yes, she thought, the Grand Admiral would get a well-deserved reprimand.

 

It was enjoyable watching them both dance around the metaphorical elephant in the room despite the terrible freezer burned Tombstone Pizza that was dinner, Crissa Pyrondi and Andrew Savona were obviously interested in getting to know each other better.

“So Ellie, ya wanna go out an’ milk the cows again while I take care a my special girl?” Drew was holding Athena while Pyrondi made silly faces at her.

Elinor had to resist the urge to ask who he was referring to, the baby or the woman sitting next to him on the couch.

“I don’t mind. I know you _really_ like spending time with _her_.” She raised her eyebrows suggestively

Drew screwed up his face – Pyrondi was too distracted by the baby to see – and mouthed “NO” at his sister.

Ellie smiled sweetly and skipped out to the barn. It was dusk, but the light was fading quickly.

By the time she got there, he was already waiting.

Had the Grand Admiral been listening in on their conversation or had he anticipated it would be her doing the chores since Drew was so smitten with their daughter and with a certain Lieutenant Commander? He likely had one of those devices the Imperial mutineers used to eaves-drop on her after she returned from the Chimaera.

Before she could ask, he smiled slyly, “I have something for you.”

She tilted her head in question.

He held up the black pair of panties and her face instantly turned red, she made to reach for them. He moved his hand back, raised his eyebrow and cocked his head provoking the redness in her face to travel down to her chest.

“Give me.” She made another grab for them.

“Perhaps you would benefit from a lesson in strategy?”

“Oh?”

He leaned in closer to her, whispering in her ear. “Sometimes surrender is _strategically_ your best option.”

She moved her head closer to the sound of the hypnotic voice she loved and sighed as he moved his lips down her neck. The moment was interrupted when the arm he had wrapped around her waist pushed her behind him. In one smooth motion he drew his blaster and aimed it at the man standing in the frame of the barn door.

“Bridger.”

“Thrawn.” Ezra had a hangdog expression on his face.

“To what do we owe this visit?” the Chiss growled.

“I wanted to speak to Elinor.”

Elinor tried to casually push her underwear in the pocket of her jeans and stepped forward, “What’s going on, Ezra?”

The young Jedi tilted his chin upward, “You’ve been talking with Martin Tassi.” There was no question in his voice; it was a statement, but it wasn’t one he needed her to verify. He said it with absolute certainty.

Thrawn went rigid next to her.

Ezra’s eyes narrowed at her reaction; she undoubtably betrayed her disbelief, “Tell me about your dream.”

She wasn’t quite sure what astonished her the most, that he knew or that it had _not_ been a request. The young man she took to be unassuming had _demanded_ she explain.

 

Thrawn sighed, but the two humans couldn’t hear the sound, it was so slight.

Elinor had fidgeted next to him; sitting on a bundle of straw, she looked small and terrified as she recounted her vision – what Yermentic and he just assumed was an artifact of her condition. Ezra Bridger on the other hand appeared stoic and pensive; the Grand Admiral hadn’t remembered seeing the young Jedi in such a way...

_He is so much older._

Yes, that was it. Much older than the boy who orchestrated the 7th Fleet’s destruction over Lothal.

It certainly displeased him that Elinor didn’t feel comfortable enough to confide in him. What other issues did she _not_ feel compelled to inform him of? She kept her terrifyingly-real dream a secret and would have likely continued to do so, had not Bridger asked her about it.

_How did he know?_

“I don’t know if it’s possible…my teacher didn’t really get into this, but it sounds like you and Tassi, uh – Harding” he corrected himself glancing surreptitiously at Thrawn, “ - have some sort of Force connection.”

She looked horrified, “Why?”

The young Jedi shook his head, “I honestly don’t know.”

“How do I make it stop so it doesn’t happen again?”

The boy cringed, “I honestly don’t know that either.”

“What do I do?” Elinor was panic-stricken now, “Can he see and hear me? Does he know what I’m thinking and doing?”

The idea of Harding invading the most private reaches of her mind, knowing her deepest fears and insecurities; using everything she was against her and the people she loved, was horrific. Her stomach rebelled over the mere thought and the blood drained from her face. Thrawn saw her physical reaction and steadied her gently by her shoulder.

“How did you come to know about this, Bridger?” Thrawn’s scrutinized him.

He sighed, “Athena told me.”

Elinor and Thrawn queried simultaneously.

“What?”

“Excuse me?”

Ezra dropped his gaze, “The bond between Athena and Elinor.” He looked up at her guiltily, “Whatever you feel, she feels.”

“How did she _tell_ you?”

“She didn’t tell me with words.” He looked pained now.

Thrawn stepped forward and was about to lift the young Jedi up by the front of his shirt, when Elinor stopped him. Ezra on the other hand, seemed to hunch his shoulders and gave the Chiss a “let’s-get-this-over-with” look. She wondered idly how many times a similar scene had played out between the two.

“Stop!” she admonished the Grand Admiral, “Ezra, what do you mean not in words?”

“I saw images but…”

“But?”

There was a long pause while he stood shuffling his feet uncomfortably; Elinor was on the verge of telling Thrawn he could continue where he left off and heft the kid up by his neck, but the sound of the screen door slamming caused the words to die in her throat.

“Shhi-“ her gaze swept the barn searching frantically for a hiding place.

“Hey Ellie!” Drew’s voice called, “Ya out here.”

Ezra looked at Thrawn in mild amusement and jumped strait up into the rafters. Elinor was still looking up at him in amazement when Drew walked into the barn. Thankfully, she had the lights on in all the stalls so he could see her and the tall alien standing next to her.

The light didn’t help. His reaction was still unenthusiastic.

 

Andrew Savona had not taken kindly to his approach; perhaps believing instead, the Grand Admiral should have knocked on the front door to introduce himself prior to sauntering to the barn to seduce his sister. And now the man was in a staring contest with a Chiss.

Thrawn had half a mind to tell him, albeit gently, that he only needed three to four hours of rest to function at peak efficiency and could go without sleep for days.

He decided against it.

Thrawn reasoned that if Savona felt the need to follow his perceived role as an older male sibling of an attractive young female put forth by societal norms, he was amenable to playing along. If the staring, as an attempt to show displeasure would give the man some comfort, he would allow it.

For now.

Elinor fidgeted, likely trying to divert her brother’s gaze away from him causing the corners of the Grand Admiral’s lips to twitch upward.

Andrew Savona saw it.

“Knock that smirk off yer face.“

His sister sat up from within the crevice of one of the old couch cushions, “ANDREW!”

Savona seemed to deflate slightly but still gave Thrawn an evil glare, “He shouldn’ve been sneakin’ ‘round. He coulda gotten shot.”

“I told you, what happened – he was my body guard at one point. He’s quite capable of taking care of himself and me _and_ Athena!”

“Not on my farm he’s not.” The man muttered under his breath.

“If he’s -” Elinor motioned to Thrawn, “- not welcomed here then I certainly can’t stay, and neither can Athena.”

Drew shot the Imperial a dirty look.

“Fine.” He growled, “But there’s one thing I gotta know.”

He turned to the Grand Admiral and leaned menacingly toward him, “Ya gunna make an honest woman a my sister?”

The Chiss furrowed his brow, “I have found your sister to be quite truthful.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi,
> 
> The thing that will probably drive some people crazy - at first it drove me crazy too (I'm sorry it just happened that way) - in this part of the story I ended up writing Thrawn as not infallible.
> 
> What happens if he didn't quite get it right when he really needed to?
> 
> Logic behind this: He really seems to not do well with accounting for what Force sensitive individuals end up doing - there's always the element of WTF in there that tends to get him - he just seems to be out of his league (unfortunately).
> 
> But I made it even worse for him (hence the self loathing) - what happens if someone like Harding pulls the strings of someone like Klary and it's Klary that ends up besting him. OUCH. BURN. HURT. 
> 
> Don't worry he'll get both in the end - Hubris is a b!tch...and Thrawn's a Grand Admiral for a reason.


	44. Request

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning:  
> Some minor violence
> 
> In This Chapter:  
> "You're going to want to see this."  
> Ellie to retrofit the Lambda  
> 2300 hours. Deck 10 Security Office #5  
> Signal jamming and Elinor's gratitude toward Ezra  
> Brev feels guilty for involving Mendoza   
> Always one person to fall back on.

 

Ensign Terren Mendoza was past the point of wondering what in the hell was going on. His two friends, or at least the two people he socialized with the most; Lieutenant Izak Tanner and Lieutenant Dedre Rhyns were both dead within a day of each other.

Rhyns, although an arrogant Core-world elitist, certainly didn’t deserve his fate; supposedly murdered at the hands of traitors in an attempted mutiny. Tanner had been the victim, supposedly of an accident on the surface during the hunt for those escaped mutineers.

The strangest thing out of all that had happened since the Captain and Grand Admiral suddenly went missing, was Commander Klary seemed to be taking a lot of advice from a native. He’d been on the bridge when she’d ordered Mendoza to send TIE fighters down to the surface. He’d sent both down to the area where they found the woman that helped them fixed the Chimaera.

Mendoza had never actually met her. She’d been in Engineering and he was never on shift when she came around asking questions of Navigation. Tanner said she was surprisingly conversant for a native; she’d studied the subsystems prior to asking her questions – her inquiries weren’t “what does this button do?”

What were the odds of it being a coincidence that Klary send those TIE fighters down to the same area they found the engineer?

Slim to none.

The mystery was made even more intriguing by the fact that only one TIE returned to the Chimaera. The rumor from several of the stormtroopers was that the other had crashed.

Terren Mendoza found all of this extremely alarming and despite the general frustration amongst the ranks prior to his disappearance, these sorts of losses would never have happened if the Grand Admiral were here.

_Where the kriff was that blue bastard?_

Several officers and crewers were asking the same thing only a little louder and more often; some even going so far as to volunteer to travel down to the surface to search for him. Mendoza shivered.

One such persistent voice, a technician by the name of Salisman who supposedly worked in the war room with Lieutenant Commander Pyrondi and the Grand Admiral, had suddenly gone missing. Granted, an Imperial Star Destroyer was a big ship, but there were only so many places to hide. Security suspected he deserted; took one of the escape pods and, due to spotty sensor reliability escaped undetected.

_Krayt spit._

The man probably lost his mind and found some inventive way to blow himself up in the Engineering lab.

Still…it was one more data point in the unfolding drama that was life aboard the ISD Chimaera.

Mendoza walked briskly to the mess. He had just finished his shift on the bridge and was tired of doing just about nothing for thirteen hours.

Navigation was responsible for correcting for the slight changes in the moon and planetary movements, in order to keep the ship hidden from the clueless population below. You couldn’t do much in Navigation when the system was stuck in low power ops – minor corrections only. It was as exciting as scrubbing the hydraulic bio-waste management lines.

All he wanted was to get his slop, scarf it down, catch the last little bit of a stupid Earth television show the crew found a way to broadcast in the mess hall, and hit the rack. Fate it seemed, had other plans or at least Ensign Yenita Brev did.

“Hey Yen, how’s things on Deck 10?” Terran asked as he stood in line for…what was it again – a pot roast? It tasted like mynock shit and it looked just like what he’d imagine the hydraulic bio-waste management lines would look like.

Brev was part of Security and had gone to the Academy with him, as far as he knew she was dating a loud mouth stormtrooper, discreetly of course. She’d been fun loving and confident; always had a ready smile but the Yenita Brev he saw now was not the one he remembered.

“It’s…interesting.” She fidgeted with the sleeves of her uniform.

“Yeah tell me about it.” He snorted.

It was supposed to be a rhetorical question. She was apparently looking for someone to share her secret with and Terren Mendoza was at the wrong place at the right time.

Brev pulled at his arm and led him out of the slop line; leading him out of the mess hall. Before he had an opportunity to ask her what the hell she was doing, she stopped just shy of a corner at the end of the hallway.

“Kiss me.” She ordered.

“Excuse me?”

“Kiss me.”

“Uhhh, Yenita…”

“Fine!” she stood on her tip-toes and wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her lips firmly to his as she pulled him back with her to the darkened corner.

When she pressed herself into the corner, creating an uncomfortable triangle with her body she finally unsealed her mouth from his.

“Stay.” She again ordered him.

He stood stock still, too shocked to do much of anything else other than stare at her wide-eyed. Brev was stunningly beautiful but his tastes leaned in a different direction.

“Um, Yen?”

“It’s ok Terren. They can’t see us in the corner.” Her eyes darting from side to side like a caged animal.

This was not a woman in the throes of passion. She was absolutely terrified.

“What’s going on Brev?”

She inhaled sharply, “Terran, I found something.”

“Okaaaay?”

“A few weeks ago - remember when Rhyns was killed?”

He nodded.

“I did some digging on the security footage – in the hanger bay – and I found something.” She breathed.

“What did you find?” he knitted his brows together.

“I can’t tell you.” She looked like she was going to break down sobbing, “but I can show you.”

Abruptly she looked over his shoulder with startled eyes, wrapping herself around him and nuzzling his neck.

“Meet me at 2300 hours. Deck 10 Security Office #5.”

Two female Ensigns walked by giggling at the couple caught in the compromising position in the corner, as he turned his head toward her.

“Yenita, you’re scaring the hell out of me.”

“Trust me, Mendoza. You’re going to want to see this.”

 

To accentuate the awkwardness of the whole ordeal, there was a tentative knock on the door. Drew still had his arms crossed over his chest, pursing his lips muttering something about sending his guests back to Mars when Elinor bounded up, Athena in arms, to answer the door.

Thae Cran, Arton Dizon and Ezra Bridger were whispering animatedly.

“-swear they’re called cows.” Dizon was saying

“Ma’am.” Cran smiled lopsidedly upon seeing Athena; winking at Elinor affectionately.

Both he and Dizon stepped into the slowly-decreasing-in-size Savona residence and acknowledged the Grand Admiral with a nod and a “sir.” Bridger stood to the side trying to make himself inconspicuous.

“Major, Captain, what have you found?” Thrawn asked

At this point Drew finally stopped his failing attempt at out-staring the Chiss and jumped up from his seat to glare at the three newcomers.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Wha, da ya think I’m runnin’ here, the Hotel California?” he whipped his head back and forth between the alien and the three humans.

Cran decided to break the ice first, “Mr. Savona it’s a pleasure to finally meet you in person, sir.”

The Major gave the man his best reassuring smile knowing full well it was probably overwhelming for him to find out that 1) there was life beyond his own planet and 2) his beloved sister had reproduced with said life.

The final though made the Imperial let out an uncomfortable sounding wheeze.

Bantha spit! Yermentic was the one with the bed side manner – leave him to surveillance and ground assaults.

“Ya guys them Imperials Ellie was tellin’ me ‘bout?” Drew looked at all three of them, eyes settling on Ezra.

Ezra shook his head slowly and pointed over to Dizon and Cran, “That’s them, I just hijacked their ship.”

Elinor tugged on Drew’s sleeve to lead him away from the discussion like he was a senile old man asking where his pet rancor had run off to. The poor farmer just gapped and stammered at the group like he’d been hit in the head too many times.

_Perhaps they should call Yermentic?_

Cran directed his attention back to the Grand Admiral and bowed his head slightly by way of apology for the brief distraction. The Chiss simply waved it away.

“They’re still holed up about 30 kilometers to the east, right where we started from and right where we left them, sir. They don’t get points for creativity.” Cran grumbled shooting a look at Dizon

“I should think not.” Thrawn nodded thoughtfully, “Activity level?”

Elinor had deposited her brother at the kitchen table with Crissa Pyrondi who was, by the tone of her voice providing him soothing words of comfort.

“About the same, sir.” Dizon shrugged.

Ellie could sense the uneasy feeling coming from the stormtrooper Captain and glanced over at Thrawn. He apparently caught it as well, from either the man’s voice or body language, because he arched an eyebrow in question.

“Your thoughts Captain?”

Dizon hesitated and then sighed, “I’m just…not sure what we hope to gain by watching them load supplies into transports every day, sir.”

It was no secret that the stormtrooper was anxious to do something – anything – and one could make the case that he was itching for a fight since leaving the Chimaera. Of course, after Thrawn had told her what had happened immediately prior to their escape – the murder of Captain Pellaeon had set off a chain reaction of emotion in the Imperials around her – she understood Dizon’s feelings.

Per Ezra, she could understand but not partake in the same emotion; to act on anger while drawing on her power would start Elinor on a downward spiral toward an unimaginable bottom.

_Unimaginable. Like Harding._

She swallowed hard at the memory; holding her daughter a little tighter to herself. She looked over at Thrawn who was studying Dizon carefully.

“Information, Captain.” He said softly

The stormtrooper shifted restlessly, prompting the Grand Admiral’s voice to harden, “Do not assume, I have forgotten the crimes committed, Captain. Imperial justice will be served in the end. I suggest you remember that before you consider pursuit of a personal vendetta.”

“Yes., sir.” Dizon wilted, noticeably relaxing under the gaze of the Chiss.

“Good.” Thrawn nodded once and turned back to Cran, “What can you tell me about their schedule?”

Cran had been tense too during the exchange and the question required him to unclench his jaw, “Two runs up to the ship per day, sir. Both are troop transports. There are about five squads of stormtroopers on the ground.”

Thrawn frowned. “How often do the shuttles come?”

Cran seemed to retighten his jaw, “Very infrequently, but when they do, they tend to stay for a few days.”

The Grand Admiral nodded again, “When did the last shuttle leave for the Chimaera, Major?”

“Yesterday, sir.”

“Excellent.” There was satisfaction in his voice and everyone in the room seemed to find it comforting except Ezra, who had, with minor difficulty, taught himself to be indifferent to the sound.

“Where does that leave us?” Elinor asked.

Thrawn looked over at her and his eyes shifted to Cran, “Major?”

“I have some visuals for you ma’am.”

“The shuttle they’re using?” she asked brightening

Cran smirked, “Yes, ma’am.”

“There are drawings and specifications for each Lambda design in the shuttle data bank. There are subtle differences between them, but they would be _noticeable_ if we were to land, under watch, in the Chimaera’s hanger bay.” Thrawn added, watching her with mild amusement.

“And you would like me to modify our current Lambda?”

This had been _part_ of _one_ of the plans the team had discussed, so she felt obligated to confirm the Chiss didn’t want her to turn the small ship into a house boat.

“Indeed.” Thrawn smiled tightly, “The Major has some visuals of the specific shuttle they are using.”

“Complete with dings to the paint job!” Cran commented dryly.

Ellie shook her head and furrowed her brow, “Wait. How do we know, they’re going to be using this same shuttle for every shuttle run?”

“Because,” the Grand Admiral smiled smugly, “the Chimaera only has two Lambda class shuttles.”

She grinned up at him; hearing one of the chairs screech away from the kitchen table, abruptly caused her to turn around.

“Yer not goin’ back up ta tha’ damn ship are ya?”

Elinor sighed.

 

Yenita Brev was not easily excitable; choosing to take things in stride which is what made her so good at her job in Security. She wasn’t easily flustered. She was commended for her calm tenacity and situational awareness during the Lothal incident. Her performance easily took a year off her pursuit to her Lieutenant’s plaque – a rank she should be at by now; if only the Grand Admiral were here. Klary had conveniently forgotten promotions and commendations for several of the officers, although she was now in command of the Chimaera.

Yenita Brev, unfortunately, discovered how Commander Greta Klary came into the position and the unflappable young Security Officer suddenly became paranoid. She sat awaiting the arrival of Ensign Terren Mendoza wondering if she should send the surveillance holo to someone. Surely, all correspondence would be monitored and as soon as she did send evidence of Klary’s treason out beyond the confines of Security, Brev would have a huge target on her back.

Mendoza’s greeting interrupted her thoughts, causing her to jump in her seat and her heart to race, “Hey Yen.”

“Hi Terren.” She pressed her index finger to her lips, “Don’t say a word, just watch.”

 

The Imperials discussed the concept of signal interruption on variable frequencies – technology Elinor understood to be hypothetically possible – usually jamming only worked at a single frequency – and what she knew of the Imperial communication system was that it adapted; transmitting at frequencies not already employed by signals of a certain magnitude. She had only a rudimentary understanding of the technology from her time aboard the Chimaera, her _bodyguard_ at the time had been hesitant to let her play with the comm system too much.

Drew and Crissa were taking Athena for a walk; showing her the wonders of life on a farm, while Elinor sat next to Ezra at the table. The kitchen window was open allowing a warm breeze to gently play with the curtains. She looked over at the young Jedi and felt a wave of affection and respect for him.

_Did he ever get to have a childhood?_

They hadn’t talked much about his past; there had never been time and she had always sensed a deep sadness when he mentioned his family.

Once upon a time, she would have rationalized these types of things. Emotions were born out of chemicals in the brain which gave raise to further electro-chemical reactions prompting external stimuli hence providing input into the gray matter to produce _yet_ more chemicals. It was an equation – something to be solved, but most of the time there were so many missing pieces; too many variables and not enough equations to describe the relationship between all of them properly.

She was different now.

Yes, she was still her. She still looked at the world as something to be solved but there was an element that hadn’t been there before – a door that was now open to her. She smiled.

“Thank you.”

Ezra turned to her and blinked, “For what?”

“For helping me; helping us.” She fidgeted with her hem of her shirt, “I know we aren’t your first choice. I know you miss your family, but I’m glad you’re here.”

It was the first time she saw him truly smile; content.

“You’re welcome. And…” he paused, “yes, I do miss them, but I’m where I’m supposed to be.”

She smiled, and to avoid further display of emotion - “So how shall the torture commence? Lightsaber practice? Mental rock lifting until I get an aneurism?”

Ezra snorted, “We’ll start with meditation.”

“Of course, we will.” She said dryly, “But first, I need to do something.”

 

Mendoza didn’t know which of his emotions was the more dominate.

Shock?

Rage?

Sadness?

Commander Greta Klary had shot Gilad Pellaeon – unarmed – in cold blood.

Brev sat trembling next to him and now he knew why the woman had been so terrified of her own shadow. If someone were to find out that she even knew about this, Klary could have her thrown out the nearest air lock. It didn’t even matter if Brev promised never to tell another living, breathing being, just the simple fact that she knew would likely get her killed…and now, he knew too.

“Why did you show this to me, Yen?” Terren whispered fiercely at her, “This is a death sentence!”

“Because, the Grand Admiral is still alive!” she whispered back looking around the security office furtively.

“What makes you say that?” The volume of his voice increased slightly out of shear surprise.

“Shhhh” she glared at him, “Didn’t you see the armored figure? In the background?”

Mendoza stared at her stupidly.

“That was Thrawn. I heard several of the techs say he disguised himself as a Mandalorian to spy on the Earth woman.”

“That could have been someone else!” he stubbornly didn’t want to cling to false hope and he certainly didn’t want Yenita Brev to latch onto it either. She needed to understand how serious her situation was – she couldn’t afford to get distracted.

“Based on previous footage of the Grand Admiral, height, gait, barely perceptible movement idiosyncrasies the security software has that man identified as being a match.”

Terren’s eyes widened. “So? It’s just proof he left the ship.”

“Proof that he was here all along – probably held against his will.”

Mendoza’s mouth fell open, realizing then what she was inferring from the security footage she had just shown him, “You are suggesting this was all a… _mutiny_?”

Brev inhaled unevenly and stared at her lap.

“Yen, you have _got_ to be caref-“

He never finished his words of caution. Her eyes flicked behind him and immediately glazed with panic; darting back to the security monitors. Yen pounded on the controls deleting the security footage viewing history, as Mendoza turned to find three stormtroopers patrolling the hallway. They would be to Security Office #5 in a matter of seconds.

“They’re almost here, where do I hide?” he whispered as he ducked behind the console.

“We both have to hide! I’m not technically on duty.”

“Yenita! What the kriff?”

Whatever she had been doing, the Security Officer finally finished or perhaps just decided it wasn’t worth getting caught and dove behind the console next to Terren. No sooner had she pulled her legs up to her chest; scrunching and trying desperately to make herself as small as possible, the first trooper stepped into the room.

Security Offices 1-5 were unfortunately open floor plan. In hindsight, Yenita Brev decided it was a stupid thing to do – to call up holo surveillance from Security in a general access area. If she could find holo evidence of Klary murdering an unarmed man, certainly someone could look to see who accessed Security Office #5.

In her defense, if she had accessed the holo again in the more secure offices further down the hall – those that were not monitored – there would still be scrutiny in her continuing review of that particular holo. Brev couldn’t delete viewing history there; in Office #5 she could.

Yenita had spent much of her career training to deal with intense situations. When the Bantha shit started flying, she knew what to do and when to do it. It didn’t matter how terrified she was before, during or after. She just performed.

Mendoza didn’t have that innate ability.

He was sweating profusely next to her; hyperventilating. She tried to calm him by pressing a reassuring palm on his arm, but he flinched angrily. Her guilt was instant – she should not have gotten him involved, but there wasn’t anyone else left onboard that she knew well enough.

One of the three stormtroopers swept through the front of the room, his filtered voice notifying the other two he would be looking in the darkened back. This promptly sent Terren into a frenzied panic and just as the armored man moved to the edge of the console nearest Brev, Mendoza shot up and raced to the door.

He didn’t get far.

The stun blast caught him squarely between the shoulder blades. He didn’t even cry out; his body thudding to the floor was the only sound other than the patrolling stormtrooper informing his two companions he had “an interesting experience in Security Office #5.”

His interesting experience did not include looking down to see Brev, curled tightly in on herself too terrified to even breathe; let along look up at the white armored trooper in the hope that she was ridiculously lucky for the man’s lack of diligence.

She was lucky. But her good fortune would not last.

 

She sat morosely on the couch Athena in her arms. Drew sat next to her refusing to squander his remaining time with his sister and niece; fully aware what was coming. He knew she couldn’t stay - not with the life she had chosen for herself.

He wondered vaguely what their parents would have said about all this. They’d be incredulous of course.

Drew himself was still reeling from finding out that his sister had been whisked away by an alien war vessel. That she’d fallen in love with the alien was, par for the course.

Elinor was never one to do things in the traditional way. She was already off at collage at the time she would have normally started dating. What she saw in the blue guy was anyone’s guess. Certainly, wasn’t his eyes! They were enough to scare the bejesus out of anyone.

Drew almost chuckled. Thomas would probably have tried to chase Thrawn off waving a machete – somehow the younger Savona doubted that would work. One thing was for sure the alien was one son-of-a-bitch you didn’t want to mess with.

That was a good thing – only the best for his sister and niece. Drew chuckled again.

Ellie cocked her head to the side and gave him a half smile, “Penny for your thoughts, Andrew?”

“Aw, nothin’. Just thinkin’ what Mom and Dad would have thoughta th’ blue guy.”

“Thrawn. His name is Thrawn. Really you should address him as _Grand Admiral_.” She pursed her lips in disapproval.

Drew snorted, “Tha’ what he makes ya call ‘im? Do ya have ta call ‘im that _all_ the time?” he couldn’t contain his laughter.

Her face turned bright red at the implication; trying to hide her coy smile she playfully smacked him on the shoulder as he continued to chortle at her expense.

“Nah, I guess I was too overprotective of ya. He’s ok, I guess. From what Crissa says he’s a good guy ta work fer an’ he seems ta take care of ya and th’ baby.” He looked down at his lap, “Can’t ask fer much more than that, right?”

“No. Not much more. Just one thing.”

Drew’s eyebrows knit together in question, “What’s on yer mind, Ellie?”

Elinor hadn’t realized it, they started to form, unbidden. The tears became too heavy in her eyes; fell down her face, leaving streaks of emotion on her cheeks.

“Drew.” She rasped.

She frowned at her voice and tried again. “Drew, listen. There will come a time, probably soon, when I will ask you to do something and it could be dangerous.”

“Ok.” It wasn’t a question – there was no negative tone – he was just waiting for her to continue without doubt; as if no matter what it was, he would do it, without hesitation.

This brought yet another wave of emotion and she wiped the evidence of it away hastily, looking down at her daughter as she did so.

“I’ll ask you to look after Athena if Thrawn and I…” she couldn’t say it, couldn’t think it.

_If we don’t ever come back._

He sat in horror. “Ya really gunna try ta git tha’ ship back?”

“We don’t have a choice. In the wrong hands, it could destroy everything. Everything, Drew!” she was starting to sound hysterical now, “And Athena will never ever be safe, if we don’t stop these people.”

“An’ I suppose they’re after ya too?” he stared hard at her.

She nodded, “I can’t hide anymore.”

He bobbed his head, looking down at the baby girl in his sister’s arms, “Yeah, I know tha’. Dunn’t make it any easier.” He said picking up the infant’s tiny hand and watching in wonder as she wrapped it around his finger.

“Before you say ‘yes’, there’s something you need to know about Athena.” Ellie inhaled shakily. “She has the same kind of power I do.”

It barely came out as a whisper.

Drew stared at her for a few agonizing heartbeats. His face contorting with his own emotions.

“Tha’ don’t mean I don’t love ‘er any less, Elinor, ‘an tha’ I won’t look after ‘er like she’s m’ own.” His voice cracked and his eyes watered.

They had been through so much together; triumph, tragedy and where one didn’t know what to do, the other always did. The emotions of the two were those only siblings would understand, those that were flung into the world; both facing their own impossibilities, always knowing that no matter what, they would have at least one person to fall back on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi,
> 
> I try to minimize new characters - I'm environmentally conscious like that (I'm a recycle, reuse kinda gal) - Brev, Mendoza, Tanner, and Rhyns were mentioned previously in Part II. Salisman was mentioned in Part I (most of the time not by full name but...)
> 
> I try...I don't always succeed...sometimes I just make them so I can kill them...
> 
> Wow.
> 
> That sounded really bad.
> 
> Did I mention I love to embroider, garden and read? - I'm a very boring, mild person.
> 
> Also I'm thinking of getting a tattoo. It's a toss up between the 6 factor formula and Maxwell's Equations (and no, not on my bum - I'm not that much of a bad ass - no pun intended!)
> 
> Next chapter...coming up.


	45. Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning:  
> Psychological torture
> 
> In This Chapter:
> 
> Whittland has a "helpers"  
> Distancing herself  
> Harding uses Mendoza as practice  
> The Grand Admiral has trust issues  
> Drew hates town, Dizon needs supplies and the sheriff is an ass.  
> Elinor feels Thrawn's suspicion  
> The sheriff is an ass and a "helper"

 

Douglas Whittland was a simple man.

Yes, he’d been dealing with complications lately. He’d weathered them before, and he’d do it again; but he sure missed Yuri Gornovek. The Russian bastard knew how to take care of complications.

Pow! Right between the eyes. Done.

He still didn’t understand what Harding’s fascination was with Elinor Savona. He said it was “complicated,” knowing full well that Whittland hated complications and would undoubtedly steer clear of further questions to keep his life as simple as possible. Unfortunately, his benefactor’s complications where adversely impacting his simplistic life.

His job at the Bureau for instance…Ever since the bitch got away, he’d been nothing more than a desk jockey. He loathed paper work, but not nearly as much as he hated not having his booze, cards and women.

That’s what he wanted: Booze. Cards. Women.

Simple.

So, a filing freak he would be; a useful tool to George Harding – someone who could help him with his simple life. The life wasn’t free of course, the boss required work be done. But Doug Whittland, being such a simple man learned long ago, why do yourself what you could get others to do for you.

When he set up his little network of helpers, he thought for sure they’d be quite useful.

He was proven right.

It’s always the simple things in life…

 

She deactivated the blade with a huff and nodded to Ezra in solidarity; fully aware he didn’t much like having spectators either. When their Imperial companions weren’t working on the Grand Admiral’s plans to retake the Chimaera, they were furtively watching the young Jedi and Elinor duel.

It was obvious that her skills were rapidly improving; not just her technique with a lightsaber but the way she wielded her abilities. Ellie could tap into the Force quicker and use it more readily. It still required thought and concentration, but it no longer commanded huge swaths of time, necessitating meditation on _feeling_ the process of employing an energy that was always there.

Ezra had predicted she would get better at calling on it, but it still unnerved her to have such power available to her. Ironically, she felt the best person to talk to about this would be Thrawn; not Ezra.

Yes, the young Jedi understood what it was like to feel and use this particular _type_ of power, but the Grand Admiral was familiar with power _in general_. As a military leader he had command over people and although, the young man trying to teach her the ways of the Force may not necessarily see it the same way, that power could kill.

Thrawn had killed people; had sent people to their deaths. He would know what she was feeling.

_Overwhelmed._

As if he heard the thoughts spoken aloud, Ezra shook his head and waved his hand; still breathing heavy from their duel. Marginally gratified that she could at least give him a workout, she smiled.

“Are you alright?” Elinor asked.

“Yep. Think it’s time for a break. You’ll be needed at the shuttle soon.” He gave her a lopsided grin.

She nodded absently, finally realizing she was also winded. Toldera and Yates were casually traipsing back down the small hill toward the shuttle as she stared down at the ground, suddenly squinting over a sudden headache.

“Ezra?”

He noticed her scowl.

“What is it?”

“The strange dream – with Tassi – it seemed so…real.”

His brow furrowed.

“I felt like he was there. Physically there.”

He tried not to let his surprise show on his face; certain his unease would scare her further, but she was watching him closely. She saw it – the flicker of concern, the disquiet in his suddenly aged features.

He inhaled sharply, “I-I don’t know Elinor.”

“Why do _you_ think this is happening?”

How was he going to explain his viewpoint without terrifying the poor woman – she was so delicate – only starting to come out of hiding; finally embracing her abilities. If she felt this was too much of a threat to Athena or herself, she’d either shrink into herself or she’d actively seek an easier means of protection. In either case, Elinor Savona would fall into darkness. Her daughter would go with her despite her unconscious attempts to distance herself from the bond she and Athena had.

She was intelligent, certainly she had her own ideas or theories. Perhaps he should start there.

“I’m sure you have your own thoughts?”

She sat heavily down on the ground and studied the hilt of the lightsaber in her hand, “I have my own idea, yes, but it’s scary.”

Ezra sat down next to her and watched as she struggled to articulate the connection between herself and the man she knew as Martin Tassi.

“I-I-I think he’s set himself up to be my test. He wants to either make me into what he wants me to be or break me.” She blinked tears away, “I-I just don’t understand how or why.”

“Power.”

Both Ezra and Elinor looked up. Neither had realized Thrawn was standing behind them.

“Harding cares only for power. If you have it, he will want to use you. If you resist, you are of no use to him, in which case he will dispose of you in lieu of having you become a threat later.” Thrawn fixed his eyes on Elinor.

He offered his hand to help her up and she took it looking mildly shame-faced over the overheard conversation. If he noticed her expression and posture, he gave no indication but rather shifted his red gaze to the Jedi still sitting on the ground cross-legged.

“Bridger, may I speak with you a moment?”

Ezra’s eyes widened in surprise, “Me?”

The Grand Admiral’s sigh was barely perceptible as he gave the young man a look that could only be described as a “must-I-dignify-that-with-an-answer?”, prompting Elinor to stifle a quick laugh over the continuing back-and-forth between the two.

“Sure.” Ezra said hastily getting up, brushing himself off as the Chiss turned. The Jedi rolled his eyes as he walked by Elinor; she smiled thinly and shook her head.

Thrawn abruptly turned and regarded her, studying her face. “Major Cran has the information you requested, Dr. Savona.”

That was her cue to leave. He only referred to her by her title in professional settings or occasionally in jest, privately.

“Alright. I’ll be cracking open the hyperdrive if you need me.” She smiled softly, looking for some form of reassurance from him. Thrawn’s look didn’t provide her with any.

Perhaps he was upset with her over not telling him about her nightmare? She hooked her lightsaber to her belt and trudged down the hill only glancing back at the Jedi and the Grand Admiral when she got to the bottom.

 

George Harding had gone by so many names, it was getting rather tedious to come up with a new one, but he managed to create a new life for himself – on the ground _and_ on the Chimaera. And now, he had the opportunity to practice his new profession; the job he happily volunteered for aboard ship.

They dragged the heaving man into the cell as he was still recovering from their stun weapons. Interesting little toys those blasters…if he had the time, he’d take one apart and study it. Alas, his engineering skills were to be put to use elsewhere.

His thoughts flicked back to the man sprawled on the floor at his feet, gasping for air like a fish out of water. The analogy made Harding chuckle. He wore an Ensigns plaque and records identified him as Terren Mendoza; up until he heard the soft laughter of his interrogator the Navigation Officer’s eyes were squeezed shut. They opened cautiously.

When he saw the other man sitting calmly on the cot in the cell with him, he thought he had fallen (figuratively, of course) upon some good fortune – perhaps this would be someone who he could commiserate with. He sat up and blinked, looking around confusedly and stretching his shoulder muscles.

“What happened?” the Ensign asked, “Is Yen ok?”

Harding’s smile broadened, “Hm. I’m not sure, but you’ll have to tell me what happened.”

The other man frowned suddenly, looking at him clearly now; assessing, scrutinizing coming to realize Harding was quite possibly a threat.

_Good._

It’s so much more satisfying when they have that first taste of disappointment.

“Who are you?” Mendoza asked.

He cocked his head and pursed his lips, “An obvious question, I should think you would start with, ‘Why am I here?’ “

The prisoner moved to stand, shakily to his feet – at Harding’s request, the stormtroopers did not restrain him, after all he needed the practice.

“Were you drunk on duty?” the Ensign asked hesitantly

He couldn’t restrain himself, he flung back his head and laughed, “Oh you are delightfully stupid! It’s going to be irritating how easy this will be.”

Terran, finally recognized the man, or he thought he did.

_The native; a civilian._

“What!?” Mendoza, despite his current situation and state, apparently did not take to being called stupid especially by a native, “What the hell is this? Who the hell are you?”

He advanced toward Harding; fully meaning to fume in the other man’s face and intimidate an answer out of him. The pain that swept into his conscious being was unlike anything his mind or body had ever endured. It was all consuming, all encompassing, powerful, horrifyingly terrible and to George Harding it was beautiful.

The man’s screams could be heard up and down the cell block. It took only ten minutes for Terren Mendoza to tell him everything; he gave up the woman – Yenita Brev – instantly.

Another ten minutes and the Navigation Officer lay dead.

Harding huffed in frustration.

The Ensign wasn’t a challenge; the woman Klary had sent a squad of stormtroopers for wouldn’t be a challenge either. He longed for a challenge, but in the meantime, he would prepare for the next encounter with someone who was worth his time and effort.

He would prepare for _her_.

 

“How is she, Bridger?”

Ezra scowled, “Why are you asking me?”

He didn’t think he was even qualified to teach Elinor the ways of the Jedi; he certainly wasn’t qualified to… _what, exactly_? Council her on matters of the heart? And he certainly wasn’t going to help Thrawn – he hadn’t even been sure the man had a heart until Elinor came along.

“She is isolating herself.” Thrawn clasped his hands behind his back formally, “I cannot help her.”

The Jedi already knew she was extremely insulated even from her own daughter; he had suspected her defensive inwardness would only increase with Harding’s intrusion.

“Have you tried _talking_ to her?” Ezra tried to keep the sarcasm out of his voice – he failed miserably.

“I have not. I am… _uncertain_.”

The young Jedi blinked. Grand Admiral Thrawn was _uncertain_?

“Uh. What exactly are you unsure about?”

“Her connection to Harding may make her vulnerable to outside influ –“

“You don’t trust her!” Ezra gasped.

Thrawn stared pensively off into the distance; nothing but trees within sight, and likely, his own guilty conscience coming into view. There was a long painful silence.

Thrawn was no fool, he couldn’t argue with Bridger. “I have not told her anything I do not wish the enemy to know.”

Ezra opened his mouth to argue the point; closed it.

_You’re not qualified to act as council._

The Grand Admiral studied him carefully; decided it was best to change the topic, “How is her training?”

The boy was glaring at him now, probably angry over a perceived breach in some unspoken understanding two people in a committed relationship were supposed to have. Of course, he felt guilt over his suspicion of Elinor, but it was much too risky to feel anything other than caution when the link to an opponent was supposedly so strong.

“She’s improving.” Bridger growled lowly.

“Will she be capable of defending against a mental attack?”

The Jedi frowned, “What do you mean?”

The Chiss turned to stone, responding almost mechanically; with less emotion than Ezra had ever seen from him. “Harding is capable of manipulating sentiment. He senses… _feelings_ , can enhance what his victim feels to his advantage and can distort what is or is not felt at his leisure.”

The young Jedi felt his face contort in horror – this must be what the Grand Admiral had endured during his months onboard the Chimaera. Psychological torture via a Force sensitive that could twist the deeply buried emotions he rarely showed to anyone. Only to Elinor was he so unguarded…and Harding had used that against him.

Ezra Bridger felt the compassion anyone would feel for another being placed in such a situation; although this particular being had once been his enemy, a monster bent on the destruction of what he held dear. He wasn’t sure they could ever be friends.

No, never friends.

But there would be respect and appreciation for the other’s sacrifices; there would be an attempt at understanding the misunderstandings of the past, present and future and there would be the hope that one day, if they did happen to return “home” there would be no need for judgement of either party by the other side.

“I-I can work with her on defensive measures – try to shield herself from…that kind of attack.” Ezra was still thinking how to articulate the notion to his protégé, when Thrawn shifted, looking back at the shuttle.

“Thank you.” He said and began striding down the hill.

“Thrawn.”

The Grand Admiral stopped but didn’t turn.

“She’s isolating herself because she knows, if only subconsciously” he would hate himself for the next part, but the Chiss had to hear it, address it and hopefully he and Elinor, both could rise above it, “Be careful or she may isolate herself completely.”

His head moved in a single nod and he continued on the path down the hill, probably on the way to check the modifications to the Lambda shuttle; alterations that would ultimately aid in their plan to sneak back onto the Chimaera. Ezra was confident Thrawn had heard him and understood what he said, but would he choose Elinor over his duty?

_No. He didn’t before and he wouldn’t again, if presented with the same question._

 

Andrew Savona did not like being in town.

After growing up in the area, going to school there, living there, working there, getting married there, having your heart broken for the whole town to see, there was no mystery. Everyone knew everything about everybody, and he despised it. They talked unremittingly; very rarely was something nice said, and that was just about their _friends_.

If something terrible happened, the village gossip would be over before the dime dropped, not to offer assistance or condolences but to ask: “What happened?”

Within an hour the entire town would know all the gory details – Dingle balls slept with Who’s-her-face, What’s-his-nuts got into a bar fight with some bikers, Dim-wit accidently shot himself in the foot while cleaning his gun, etc. etc.

Drew hated it; hate the drama.

The town didn’t much care for the Savona family either.

Andrew was the one that had had the drug addicted wife – poor man, such a shame that a nice boy should fall in with someone like that. No wonder he was so standoffish. Elinor was an odd one – she went to school early, her nose was so high up in the air but the guys in town were sure she was still a virgin because no man would ever have someone so frigid.

And so, it went on and on.

HE HATED IT…

But he loved his sister more than he hated town. So, when the Imperial showed up in a pickup truck looking like he lost his favorite hat, he couldn’t _not_ help the guy. Ellie told him the man’s name was Dizon, but he told Drew to call him Art.

Art had a shopping list, written out in Elinor’s very distinctive hand writing – thankfully all the items could be procured at the local hardware store and so the two were off to get cinder blocks, duct tape, metallic silver Rustolium, and a bunch of low-grade welding material.

Art seemed good natured enough. Joking about this idea or that oddity he noticed about life “here” – the connotation being _on Earth_. Drew had to hand it to the man, he was pretty spot on with some of his thoughts...

Why did they still need paper if they were so fixated with their little devises that never seemed to leave their hands?

Why did they find ‘reality television’ so entertaining – wasn’t it enough to live in reality?

Was there any attempt at establishing a universal language – they might get along better if they actually talked to each other?

Oh, how was SPAM made?

The last question caused Drew to wrinkle his nose; deliberating how to break it gently to the guy who by the sound of his voice was obviously a fan of the gunk in the can. He was saved from ruining the man’s life, possibly forever, by the new sheriff or as Drew called him, the “dull bulb.”

Malcolm Pertson was an arrogant dumb ass.

He even thought so when Pertson and Ellie were in school together. He was a bully who liked to make people laugh at the expense of others. He’d find someone and use them as a metaphorical punching bag; playing cruel jokes that others would find mildly amusing. Once he got a few laughs – especially from the girls, there was no stopping him. He’d unleash his repertoire of brutal puns, subtle digs, and malicious innuendos.

The little prick had gone after Ellie the year their mom died. Drew had gotten suspended from school for the – ahem- reckoning; a happy little memory Malcolm never truly forgot – probably because, according to one of the local girls, the bee-bee pellet was still in his ass.

Drew smirked at him and waved.

“Howdy Sheriff!” he called, and without losing the smile he growled to the Imperial standing next to him. “That’s th’ local law enforcement asshole. Guy’s a real dumb shit.”

“It’s good to know you have friends in high places.”

Pertson seemed to eye Drew warily, something Elinor’s brother took great pleasure in, then the sheriff’s eyes turned to Dizon. “Who’s this?”

“This here is my –“

_Oh shit – what was Art supposed to be again?_

“his brother-in-law.” Art smiled and extended his hand out to Malcolm.

Pertson’s expression said ‘surprised’ coupled with ‘impressed’, “Huh, didn’t know Ellie got married.”

“Huh? Oh nah, he’s my ex-brother-‘n-law. Art is ‘Randa’s brother.” Drew kept his eyes on the sheriff willing him to say anything more about his sister – it would give him an excuse to make some comment on the tiny piece of bird shot in the fatty tissue of his ass.

“Ah, now I git it.”

_By the look on your face, you’re thinking with the metal ball in your backside, dip shit._

“So, how’s yer sister?”

“Fine.” Drew shrugged.

“I heard she went missin’ “ Pertson drawled.

“Yeah, but I’m sure she’ll be fine. Ya know Ellie, she kin fall inta a shithouse an’ come out smellin’ like a rose.”

“Yeah.” Malcolm bobbed his head slowly, “Weelll, if ya see ‘er, ya let ‘er know we all been thinkin’ of ‘er.”

“Sure thing.” Drew couldn’t help but sneer as he turned away.

Despite Andrew Savona’s characterization of Malcolm Pertson and his complete dismissal of the man, Arton Dizon thought the Sheriff deserved some further investigating. Cran would certainly want to examine what kind of threat the man could impose on the camp of Imperials and what danger he could be to Elinor Savona specifically.

The Captain said his good-byes to the farmer, thanking him for his assistance and promising to pass along his brotherly sentiments to his sister.

Thus, began his long drive. The camp was about 30 kilometers to the east, but he needed to make sure there were no tracking devices on his vehicle, thus he required a remote location to do a proper check. Once he was sure he was not being tracked through artificial means; via XMs or the more difficult to spot CTs he would drive around in circles until his head hurt watching carefully; gradually making his way back to camp. If stupidity were to manifest itself in the form of a persistent admirer…

That’s what the blaster underneath the seat was for.

 

When he retured to the shuttle, it was a swarm of activity. Elinor had put the Imperials to work finding her miscellaneous items to help her tune the hyperdrive to the appropriate frequency, thus masking its original distinctive signature. She had also requested Captain Dizon travel to town to get several things, he was to meet up with her brother who would aid the stormtrooper in his search.

It had been universally agreed upon that Andrew Savona was not to know where the Lambda was located nor where the Imperial transport site was. The odds of him stumbling upon either were exceedingly small however, the chances of him investigating on his own accord were extremely high – curiosity was apparently a shared trait within the Savona family. Captain Dizon was very competent, though in identifying pursuers.

Thrawn found her with both feet sticking out from under one of the hyperdrive panels, one foot tapping absently to a song playing in her mind over and over again. He smiled slightly, recalling their time aboard the Chimaera.

If only he had not left her behind…

Bridger was indeed correct; she was sharpening her skills, Elinor likely sensed him. Her foot stopped its incessant rhythm and she started to wiggle her way out from under the console. Once she was clear of the panel, she sat up looking around, caught his gaze and smiled warmly. He lowered himself carefully into the seat as she sat near to panel plating with her legs curled up around her.

“I haven’t checked on Athena lately.” She smiled contentedly up at him.

“Dr. Yermentic is seeing to her while you are working.”

“Hm.” She leaned in to him, pressing her head and shoulder next to his knee; a gentle nudge of affection and familiarity.

There was no point in delaying the conversation further.

“Why did you not tell me of your dream?” his voice was completely neutral.

He felt her stiffen and lean away, looking up at him again, “I-I didn’t know what to make of it. I still don’t. Why worry unnecessarily?” She said the last without conviction, her voice faltering to a whisper.

“You are worried. Why should I not be?” he countered.

She looked down at her hands, now folded in her lap.

She reached out, as Ezra had taught her; focused on the energy around her – it seemed to Ellie like waves – they were different somehow, each one of them, based on so many things. Each wave, she recognized. She didn’t know how or why, but she did. She focused on the familiar gentle current that was Thrawn.

The waves were subtle; she centered her concentration – as if she were squinting at fine print.

Concern. Guilt. Fear. Doubt.

She fixated on the last feeling – it was the strongest.

The doubt was mistrust…directed at…

She looked up sharply, her eyes widening in disbelief and hurt.

He cocked his head questioningly, his brow furrowed.

Her mouth hung open in silent protest, but really – how could she defend herself – his logic was infallible, as usual. Elinor swallowed hard, her mouth suddenly dry and her voice gone.

She quickly scrambled to her feet, refusing to look at him; the man she loved – the man that no longer trusted her.

 

He didn’t need to follow the stranger in the pick-up.

All Malcolm needed to know was there was someone new in the area; exactly like the man said, the newcomer would be with Andrew Savona.

Now Pertson was going to be on his way to bigger and better things. The guy said he had what it took to be an agent and he’d be Malcolm’s sponsor at the Bureau.

He wouldn’t be Sheriff Pertson much longer…. Agent Pertson had a nice ring to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!
> 
> Another thing I wanted to explore:
> 
> Elinor, even though she has a fairly mild personality, she's probably not exactly pleased that she was left pregnant and alone and now that Thrawn is the one with trust issues, you can imagine she'd get pretty pissed and try to revert back to a more secure state which for her is to hide.
> 
> Thrawn is probably still trying to figure which end is up - he was imprisoned for several months and tortured for one sicko with a bunch of needles and another that likes to screw with his emotions.
> 
> Both are pretty raw, but Ellie is really struggling - that might be helped along by outside forces though...


	46. Pod

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning:  
> Violence
> 
> In This Chapter:  
> How to train your escape pod?  
> The Ensign's Plan.  
> The death of Yenita Brev  
> Elinor knows  
> Ezra advocates honesty  
> Moving camp - no one in the pod.  
> Harding has business to attend to  
> The Private Investigator's e-mail.  
> Klary reflects on a close call.  
> Evidence of treason - Gilad Pellaeon.

 

For security purposes, when the ISD Chimaera first situated herself behind the Earth’s moon under low power operations one of the first actions taken was to establish several escape pods directed toward the planet. These particular pods were reserved for senior command officers – Commander on up to the Grand Admiral. There were several on each deck on the starboard and portside as well as forward and aft.

The idea was that, if disaster suddenly struck, enough of the senior level officers would escape, whether they be on portside Deck 8 in the aft section or on Deck 31 front starboard side of the massive warship. No matter where they were at any time, they would have the option of finding a pod for their use. These particular pods were directed via pre-programming, based on the ships current position relative to the planet, to deposit the pod in a designated location on Earth, thus guaranteeing the sanctity of Imperial command.

Yenita Brev remembered wondering idly what they would be commanding if the Chimaera were to actually go down. The pods programed location on the planet was a well-kept secret; only a few people knew of the exact coordinates, the Grand Admiral being one of them. All other pods were directed to the planet but unfortunately it was up to the passengers to steer the damn things – a kriffing nightmare; it was anyone’s guess as to where they would end up.

Very few people had a working knowledge of escape pods, really. It was largely due to arrogance. It was impractical to waste time and resources learning the operation of them, how to properly jettison them, setting proper coordinates, troubleshooting, etc. when you were in an Imperial Star Destroyer.

What could possibly go wrong, that would provoke the use of an escape pod when you’re on a massive warship like the Chimaera?

Engineering was required to know; they had to deal with the Chimaera’s fire protection system which would go womp-rat crazy if one of the charges went off incorrectly – it’d vent the whole pod bay to avoid inadvertent separator activation and the accidental jettison of all the pods.

Some stormtrooper squads and Security Officers were required to know; required to program them and required to have a rudimentary understanding of the mechanism that would release the pod from inside the ship without blowing the pod bay up. Yenita being a Security Officer happened to be one of the lucky few who could activate the explosive separator charges remotely, sending the little craft out into space toward the blue green planet below.

If things didn’t go well, it would likely be the last bit of knowledge of the Chimaera she would ever utilize.

Once again glancing over her shoulder, to confirm she was not immediately being followed, Brev entered the pod bay on the starboard side of Deck 23. She was more aft than forward; likely a good launch point for the pod. On the off-chance Engineering had finally gotten their act together and fixed the tractor beam, the little vessel would be harder to lock onto from this angle. Her only fear was that they somehow managed to get the aft turbolasers to do something other than look intimidating. Yenita hadn’t heard anything about the ISD getting her teeth back, but Commander Klary hadn’t exactly been open and honest about things.

She ran to one of two pre-programmed pods, placed the data chip carefully on the life support console and ran back out of the pod. Over and over again, she had played this out in her mind.

She had thought maybe she would take evidence of Klary’s treachery down to the planet personally, find Thrawn and show it to him – let him figure things out – that was why he was a Grand Admiral, after all. Naturally by now, they’d have her name; Mendoza would have told them. She wouldn’t be safe here. But if she could put the evidence in an escape pod, jettison it down to the planet, the Grand Admiral was shrewd enough to sit near the pre-programmed location and wait for whomever showed up; they’d likely bring information and be on his side.

The traitors would hypothetically think she was in the pod and divert resources to her capture – unless of course they happened to be pointing their biosensors at the pod (also a difficult thing to do at the launch angle she’d chosen). Meanwhile, Brev could stay here and spread the word of Klary’s treason; stealthily of course.

As a Security Officer there were plenty of places she knew to hide. She could start in Engineering; start persuading the technicians there - some were already convinced something wasn’t right on the top decks since Salisman had gone missing.

She regretted the pods presences would likely cause increased scrutiny on those around it, including the Grand Admiral, but Thrawn wasn’t stupid. He’d take the evidence and leave the remains behind before the stormtrooper unit came to “recapture” her. Upon finding her “gone” they’d be off on their wild Bantha chase, searching the planet for a lone Security Officer that wasn’t there.

Brev had just closed the hatch and was entering the sequence to activate the separators when the blast hit her in the left hip. The standard for a proper defense required her service weapon be at the ready, and it was, but its return fire was belated. The second shot hit her left shoulder, the force of which caused her head to slam into the bulk head behind her. The smell of her own flesh burning cause her stomach to rebel instantly but there was just one more key.

Yenita pressed the last command and felt the slight vibration underneath her, a sign that the pod had launched. The next blast was from a weapon placed on stun.

 

She wasn’t out long. Adrenaline; the likely culprit.

The smell of blaster scorched metal caused her brow to furrow. And then there was the pain.

Yenita Brev groaned and tried to wipe the blurriness from her vision. Something or someone was above her. She blinked several times; trying to focus her eyes. No matter how hard she tried the smear of olive green standing over her remained just that, a smear. Or it was until it began to laugh at her.

Commander Greta Klary.

“What were you hoping to accomplish?” the woman asked scornfully.

Brev blinked again, opened her mouth to respond but the Commander stepped on her throat. The Ensign coughed and sputtered; floundering for air and wincing in pain as she flailed against the other woman’s boot.

“Were you hoping to tell the Grand Admiral how his noble Captain died?”

Yenita’s eyes widened as Klary bent down; finally seeing the Commander clearly was the Ensign’s breaking point. Klary was terrifyingly delighted to watch her struggle; her lips curling up in a grin as she bent even lower to whisper to the Security officer.

“I’ll let you in on a secret. He already knows. He stood by and watched…And. Did. Nothing.”

Brev knew from the holo Thrawn had been there, but that he had done nothing! Nothing?

The Commander listened to the Ensign’s sobs, satisfied that her point was made; carefully she changed her expression and tone.

“Don’t worry Ensign Brev, I’m here to help you.” She soothed.

The younger woman glared up at her, “You committed treason!”

“We all commit treason. In some way; somehow.” She said quietly “Whether it be though not living up to our full potential or denying ourselves what we deserve or settling for second best, we all commit some form of treason – most of it is against ourselves.”

“You’re a traitor to the Empire!” Brev spat, feeling braver than she ever had before.

Klary pouted mockingly, “Not _my_ Empire.”

Her service weapon was already trained on the Ensign; surprisingly the girl didn’t seem to care. The shot hit her squarely between her eyes, marring what had once been a beautiful face, full of life and hope.

Klary snorted contemptuously at the remains, holstering her blaster she ordered the stormtrooper guard to clean up the mess.

They had an escape pod to retrieve.

 

She was asleep by the time he entered the cockpit. Her body was curled protectively around the baby next to her. He loosened the collar of this tunic, removed his belt and began to undress. He lay next to her gently pulling her toward him, but she murmured something vaguely dismissive and turned back; wrapping herself closer to Athena.

He sighed.

This was due to an overabundance of caution on his part, perhaps?

_No._

He had firsthand knowledge of how Harding could worm his way into someone’s mind; play with the thoughts there, twist them and turn them, making them indistinguishable from what they had once been.

Of course, the mental provocation had been supplemented by Bastilis and his inventory of drugs. Thrawn couldn’t say for certain how effective the doctor’s form of torture was without Harding’s psychological attacks, but the drugs were much more effective at making him feel wholly defeated after Harding had dug into his mind searching. The Grand Admiral was just a means to an end.

George Harding really had been searching for the woman next to him. He wanted Elinor and the child she carried. The fact that he now had a direct link to her, if only in a dream like state, was absolutely horrifying.

Thrawn clenched his jaw impulsively.

Athena squirmed in her sleep.

He wondered what his daughter’s connection was in all this. Of course, she would have a strong bond with her mother – they share the same gift; the same power – but if the dream Elinor had impacted their child so deeply…

Thrawn clenched his fists.

It would do no good to dwell on it now.

He turned to drape his arm around Elinor, remind himself he was next to her, she was safe and whole – that his mind hadn’t shattered in one of the “interviews” aboard the Chimaera. She scooted away from him.

_She knew or had seen his doubts._

The Jedi’s words came back to him then.

_“Be careful or she may isolate herself completely.”_

He would get no rest. He quietly dressed and exited the cockpit that doubled as their sleeping quarters.

 

Ezra Bridger stared out into the night sky. It was his time to capitulate to his own doubts; wondering maybe if he squinted, tried very hard, used the Force to enhance his perception, maybe he could find that one dot in the strange star scape above him.

Lothal.

No, his home was lost to him.

He took a deep breath of the crisp air and focused out beyond himself. The young Jedi felt him coming and released the breath carefully.

The Grand Admiral wanted what he always wanted.

Answers.

Ezra figured it might as well be worth it to bite the blaster; he acknowledged the other without turning, “Thrawn.”

“Bridger.” The smooth suave voice responded, it was surprisingly close to him.

Didn’t the Chiss know how to properly approach someone without scaring the stars out of them?

“What’s your latest scheme?”

To his mild surprise Thrawn chuckled, “Rest assured, I have given up on your total destruction.”

“Good to know.” Ezra snorted.

There was an uncomfortable silence, prompting the Jedi to glance over at the Chiss. His profile was as indifferent as ever, unfeeling stone; his eyes were, however narrowed and burning with emotion.

“Elinor is aware of my…concerns.”

“Of course, she is. She can sense things around her and she’s especially sensitive to you and Athena because – well - because.” Ezra waved his hand abstractly and rolled his eyes.

“We have not spoken of the issue yet.” The Grand Admiral rumbled.

As Ezra opened his mouth to reiterate his previous point - he would need to discuss his concerns directly with Elinor instead of sulking in the woods with him - Thrawn growled, “I am aware of the previous advice you provided, Bridger.”

“Yeah but you not trusting her will only make her more vulnerable to whatever attack Harding has planned. You need to let her kno-“

Thrawn pinned him with his red gaze, “Then you _do_ believe Elinor’s dream was an attack?”

Ezra cursed silently.

“I-I can’t really say for cert-“

Thrawn tilted his head menacingly toward the Jedi,

_Since he was advocating honesty…_

He gave up and shrugged, “It seems that way to me.”

Thrawn hissed something but before Ezra was forced to expand upon his reasons for the conclusion, the Chiss started to run. The young Jedi heard it then, too.

An escape pod was plummeting down in a controlled decent about a kilometer to the west; it’s landing jets flaring in the night sky, acting as a beacon to those on the ground – calling out to them.

_Find me. I survived something terrible._

 

Elinor sat in the cockpit with Athena in her lap anxiously tapping her foot – it dispelled the nervous energy and soothed her baby back to sleep, albeit a fitful slumber. She was still emotionally raw over reaching out and having things laid bare before her.

Thrawn’s faith in her was shaken, he didn’t see her as reliable – she was compromised.

If she had immediately told him about the dream, would he have felt differently?

Likely no, she’d still be a doorway for Harding to use. And now she was relegated to being eyed with caution and suspicion. He loved her but he was not as confident in her keeping vital information as he had been.

Ellie had been folded into the conversation with the small group she had begun to look upon as family. Yermentic, Cran, Pyrondi, Ezra, Dizon and Thrawn had sought her opinion in support of that recurring discussion - how best to retake the Chimaera. She and Thrawn had even talked privately about it, lying awake at night while Athena slept nearby. And now…

Now, he no longer trusted her.

She moved her hand over Athena’s tufts of dark hair, smoothing them back down on her head. The baby grunted gently in her sleep coaxing a smile from the sad woman holding her. It was, while she sat mesmerized by her daughter that she finally heard the sound of multiple voices, orders being barked out; the thumping of motion indicative of those orders being put to action.

Elinor stood just as Thrawn entered the cockpit.

“We are leaving.” He said as he slid into the pilot’s seat.

“What? Why?”

He was already initiating the preflight sequence and she was still in her night clothes.

“They are coming.” He said simply

“How do you know?”

“An escape pod was jettison from the Chimaera and landed nearby.”

She knew only a little of escape pods. She had not wanted to mess with the single pod on the Lambda; fearing the latching mechanism would trigger and the thrusters would fire, sending the thing ramming back up into the shuttle - an expensive mistake only to serve her curiosity.

“Who was in it?” she gasped.

“No one.” He didn’t look at her but continued with the preflight activities.

Something cold crept into her then. He was keeping something from her. Klary wouldn’t care about an empty escape pod, someone must have been in it. Someone or _something_.

_Remember, he doesn’t trust you, Elinor._

She blinked back tears and bobbed her head. She cradled Athena to her, picked up her clothes and wandered off to find someone to watch the child while she privately dressed and put the pieces of herself back together.

 

The Commander _allowed_ him to travel down to the surface with the three squads of stormtroopers. The white armored thugs went off on their way in search of the escape pod the renegade Ensign ejected toward the planet.

He had business elsewhere. Imperial sponsored of course, Klary would hardly let him do much of anything else, since she was the unforgiving sort.

It suited his needs because, as of right now, George Harding and the commander of the still-dormant Chimaera had similar goals. Once they stopped being aligned, Harding wouldn’t be so pliable. In fact, he was even now taking steps to position himself so when, not if, Klary made her mistake he’d be there to regain the advantage.

And maintain it.

He walked briskly to the elevator from the large SUV, parked alongside a half dozen other generic looking vehicles in the underground parking garage. Pressing the button to the 45th floor he pondered his next series of correspondences with the understanding they would be tedious.

Tiresome and grating, but fruitful.

If not, he had at least someone within close proximity to unleash his frustration on. He stepped out on Floor 45 and strode to the office of Henry Schlizer, Private Investigator; pressing in his personal access code into the key pad, allowed him entry. His first order of business was already waiting.

“Mr. Harding.” The lumbering FBI agent stood to offer his hand.

Harding sighed internally and shook Doug Whittland’s pro-offered hand and lowered himself into a leather chair behind the desk.

“Agent Whittland, please tell me your news.” Harding put just enough of an edge in his voice to relay displeasure over the man’s previous failures.

“A sheriff in the town next to the Savona farm said a new face came around today.”

“Elinor Savona is hardly new to the area, she’s practically a local legend.” Harding felt his ire rise.

“It wasn’t her. It was a guy and he was with her brother.” The FBI agent seemed to shrink back slightly as if finally realizing the threat posed by the man sitting across from him.

Harding leaned back in his chair slightly, “Really?”

Whittland nodded.

“And this sheriff – is he familiar with the Savonas?”

“Guy went to school with them.” The other man shrugged, “The brother said the guy was his ex-wife’s brother, but I did some digging. She was an only child.”

He felt the smile creep onto his face, “Ah.”

The FBI agent finally seemed to relax a little and even smiled slightly.

“You want me to go out and talk with Andrew Savona?”

Harding’s eyes flashed, “Absolutely not!”

Whittland was back to wincing away; if he hadn’t felt an abrupt sort of anger flash within him, over the prospect of the agent screwing things up, he would have laughed at the overly large man trying to stuff himself further back into his chair.

“I’ll handle it from here, Agent Whittland. Good work.”

“Thank you, sir.”

There was a pause, short enough not to be uncomfortable but long enough for Whittland to understand he was dismissed. He dutifully rose from his seat and turned to leave.

“Oh, and Agent Whittland…”

“Yes, sir?”

“Your bonus will be deposited within the hour, but it will be – “ he paused for dramatic effect, “considerably less due to your previous error.”

Whittland glared at him for what was probably a heartbeat too long; Harding cocked an eyebrow and raised his chin up slightly in a gesture of arrogant provocation.

The other man wisely didn’t take the bait; instead nodding once and leaving.

Pity.

Harding now had good reason to believe Elinor Savona was in contact with her brother. He doubted Thrawn would allow the farmer access to their strategy for sneaking back to the Chimaera, but even the most astute couldn’t account for all the players, all the time. The Grand Admiral certainly couldn’t control Elinor, no more than he could control the weather. She would go and do as she pleased – Harding was counting on it.

He began writing the email; smiling as he did so. Its receipt would provide a gentle prod to test his theory that she was indeed in the area. Worst case scenario it would lead to a slightly frustrated client. In the best possible outcome, she would reveal herself and he could begin “drafting” his next correspondence to her directly.

In the meantime, he’d concentrate on planting some suggestions for her; let her question herself and those around her. Harding smiled wickedly. Elinor would certainly be more _agreeable_ to their next conversation then.

 

Allen had been up for hours, but Fink had finally trudged out of the bedroom looking unenthused about life in general. He tried not to take it personally – he knew Fink was upset.

Elinor Savona’s disappearance had rattled them all. Every day, they half expected her face to be on Channel 11 under the heading “Body Found and Identified As…” Their small group of friends had slowly driven each other crazy with their own speculations and fears; so much so, that Tate could no longer tolerate being in the same room as Fink.

Allen patted his back understandingly as he trudged by, plopping down in front of his laptop. He decided the best thing for the man would be coffee while he blearily looked through his e-mail. Allen was in the kitchen thanking God for Keurig when he heard Fink’s chair move sharply back from the kitchen table.

“ALLLLLEEEENNNN!!!!!”

_Oh shit._

“What!? What? What?” Allen screamed rounding the corner like the little fire engines on his boxers were hosing down real flames.

Fink stood staring at his laptop, and once again Allen had the terrible mental image of Ellie’s face and yellow crime scene tape. He instantly felt his throat tighten as Fink silently pointed to the screen.

“What happened?” Allen choked out, not wanting to look

“An email from the PI!” Fink’s voice sounded…

_Excited?_

 

**From: Henry L. Schlizer**

**To: Benjamin J. Finkleton**

**RE: Elinor Savona Disappearance Case ID 5872**

**Dear Mr. Finkleton,**

**Since our last correspondence on March 13, 2019 I have discovered new information potentially relevant to Case ID 5872, for which you have requested my investigative services. It has come to my attention that the local law enforcement official of Brantix county, Sheriff Malcolm Pertson recently spoke with the subject’s brother, Andrew Savona. Pertson, a longtime resident of the area is familiar with the family but was concerned over the presence of a gentleman claiming to be Mr. Savona’s ex-wife’s brother.**

**In previous e-mail correspondence dated February 26, 2019, I detailed for you, Miranda Landly’s personal history and have confirmed she is unlikely to have been a threat to the subject or to her family. She continues to be beyond suspect, however in reviewing her records, there was no indication she has a brother.**

**As a private investigator I find this unsettling and would call upon you to consult either the local law enforcement official or if you feel so inclined discuss the matter with Mr. Savona directly. The gentleman in question was seen in the presence of Andrew Savona and could be holding his sister in exchange for payment. I advise extreme caution in this matter.**

**There are several highly respected officials in the area that would serve you well, if you require further consultation. A list of which will be forthcoming.**

**Further inquiries into this matter will be addressed upon receipt,**

**I remain humbly at your service,**

**H. L. Schlizer**

**Schlizer Private Investigative Services**

 

In the end the three squads she sent down found the escape pod but there was nothing in it.

About a kilometer away from the landing site, there was evidence of a camp – it was likely someone had saw the pod and gone to investigate prior to the recovery team landing. But natives would not have known to cover their tracks so well; would not have known what to look for, would not have known to leave the area immediately after taking only what young Ensign Brev had foolishly placed inside the pod.

No.

Thrawn had whatever was on Brev’s data chip. According to Harding’s interviewee it was nothing more than security footage; even the Grand Admiral couldn’t get information from that – at least new intel. And now that it was down on the planet, he certainly couldn’t get it back to the ship for show-and-tell unless of course he came with it; Klary was ready if he happened on that path.

As irritating as the event was to the Commander, it served no harm to her and it provided no useful aid to her enemies.

It was, however, a close call and Klary would have to keep a tighter leash on her crew from now on to avoid further embarrassing and potentially costly situations.

 

They moved the shuttle about 30 kilometers to the north; still hidden in a wooded sparsely populated area. Cran suggested sending a small team to survey the old site. Finding out if the other Imperials had come to retrieve the pod would be good information to have and would be indicative of how much Klary valued what was on the data chip. But Thrawn already knew the importance of it.

The Grand Admiral suspected it was evidence of the Commanders treason; some transaction or overheard conversation that prompted one of the officers, crewers or techs to create a record of it and send it down to the planet below. Probably at great cost to themselves.

Even he was surprised by the magnitude of the evidence.

They watched again as Greta Klary leveled her blaster at the old man’s chest, sneered in contempt and pulled the trigger, thus ending the life of Captain Gilad Pellaeon. It was devastating, not just to watch for a second time but to see the reaction to it play out on the faces of the younger officers who hadn’t witnessed it unfold before their very eyes.

Pyrondi had taken it exceptionally hard.

The Lieutenant Commander still held a significant amount of guilt over leaving the ship when she did, despite it being a direct order from the most senior officer on board. She ran out of the shuttle; stifling sobs and searching for Elinor. Crissa realized that her friend was off training with Ezra Bridger and the Grand Admiral had placed restrictions on what she was to hear and by whom she was to hear it from.

She hunched her shoulders in defeat.

Cran came up behind her and gently placed his hand on her shoulder in solidarity.

“He was a damn fine officer.” He rumbled

She bobbed her head, wiped her tears away; trying to shield herself from view with her light blonde hair, “His death won’t be in vain, though.”

“I’ll burn in all Nine Hells if it is. We’re going to take back his ship, Crissa. We’ll get the mynock shits who did this and Gilad Pellaeon will have justice.” Cran’s voice shook with emotion.

“Indeed.” The smooth voice said quietly from behind them both.

Cran and Pyrondi jerked slightly in surprise, unaware the Grand Admiral had even approached let alone heard their expressions of grief and anger.

“Sir?”

Thrawn inhaled deeply and paused as if considering, “It is Captain Pellaeon who will assist us in retaking the Chimaera.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello,
> 
> I have to say, I'm in a bit of a slump. I finished this monstrous flaming pile of silliness early last week and have spend here-and-there efforts editing it (half-heartedly). I have to say, I'm miss writing it. 
> 
> Is that normal?
> 
> I went from "Oh dear holy flying cow excrement, I'm so out of my element!" to "I'm going to eat a whole box of Samoas Girl Scout cookies because I'm depressed over finishing this."
> 
> Something is wrong - besides the fact that I'm burping up coconut and chocolate...


	47. Hiding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning:  
> NSFW
> 
> In This Chapter:  
> Crossing the line  
> Self loathing and doubt  
> Ellie's explanation  
> Thrawn muses  
> Drew, the Lieutenant Commander and Elinor's leverage  
> Elinor's strange inner voice.  
> The entourage  
> Yermentic watches Athena  
> The city mice in the country  
> Ellie plans her escape from the Imperials...but why?

 

She flung her lightsaber in a smooth arc, letting the hilt leave her hand gently, then slowly, calmly she reached out. Elinor felt the plane of existence around the blade as it traveled through the air; the smooth texture of its hilt, the radiating energy of it, the heat the beam gave off to the surrounding air molecules – nitrogen, oxygen, water vapor, inert gases - all slightly energized by the passing of the lightsaber.

She focused on the handgrip first - what it looked like, how it felt - then carefully visualized the blade moving back around; circling wider through the air; scattering dust and pollen in its travel path. She opened her hand and felt the leather of the hilt in her palm – exactly as she imagined it.

Elinor extended the blade up just in time to parry Ezra’s downward lunge. She would have fallen backward had it not been for her forward momentum which only left her backpedaling.

She changed to a two-handed grip readying herself for the next attack when the young Jedi’s stance shifted to neutral and he deactivated his blade. She did likewise and followed his distracted gaze.

Thrawn.

Elinor nodded curtly to him, clipped the lightsaber to her belt and began her trek to the shuttle. It was time for her to begin what she grudgingly referred to as her “day job”. She had made a point of requesting Pyrondi or Yates supervise her work or at least confirm what she was doing or about to do was compliant with the Grand Admiral’s expectations.

Things had not become _openly_ hostile between them, but they were not exactly warm and inviting either. Thankfully, there were no doubts as to her intentions or abilities when caring for Athena; in that Thrawn seemed to trust her implicitly.

He had just lost faith in her, in all other matters.

He would wait until she and the baby fell asleep before he entered the cockpit, whether it was his attempt to avoid the inevitable confrontation or his refusal to acknowledge her grief, the Chiss did not speak to her often.

Ellie made sure her face was free of tears before she finally fell asleep – he would never know she hurt so badly. She had to remind herself constantly; she wasn’t alone anymore – she had Athena! No matter how she hurt, no matter how emotionally impenetrable the Grand Admiral was, Elinor Savona would be what her daughter needed.

She found Pyrondi sitting at one of the consoles inside the shuttle. Crissa raised her eyebrows at her and she shrugged, “Want to do some work on the underside?”

The Lieutenant Commander snorted, “Sure, might as well – tomorrow we’re supposed to get rain.”

She looked at the other woman quizzically, “How do you know that?”

“Lucky guess.”

She frowned, “Really?”

Crissa wrinkled her nose and stood; playfully wrapping her arm around Elinor, “I happen to be _very_ good at guessing the weather here!”

“That’s bull shit Crissa, and you know it. What’s going on?” she brushed her friend away, glaring at her reproachfully.

Pyrondi stared silently at her feet.

It was the silence, Elinor decided, that would slowly driver her mad.

“Would someone tell me why the hell, I’m being treated like a _criminal_?” she screamed loud enough for the other Imperials working in and around the shuttle to hear.

For a long, quiet moment Crissa just stood biting her lip, looking pained, then the familiar voice that had once brought her such comfort, quietly relieved the other from the obligation of answering.

“A moment, please?”

If someone had yelled “Fire!” they couldn’t have moved any faster. Thrawn’s red eyes never left her face as the last Imperial left the ship, closing the hatch behind him. He stood formally with his arms clasped behind his back.

“I requested Lieutenant Commander Pyrondi extract information from the orbital satellites so that we may stay informed of planetary events.”

“That’s nice. Why was it such a big secret?” Elinor’s eyes narrowed, reaching out with the Force, through the divide that separated them.

“That is not your concern.”

_At least he’s not lying to you, Elinor – he’s just not going to tell you._

She looked at him impassively for several heartbeats.

“You’ll let me know exactly what my concerns are then, since I’m obviously not capable of identifying them myself.” she bit out.

His eyes flashed but his voice remained calm, “I am merely doing what is required to ensure the safety of everyone, including you and our daughter.”

She stepped toward him as the heat behind her eyes erupted into tears, “Yes, our daughter. I wouldn’t ever be able to take care of her by myself. It’s not like you left us and –“

Elinor knew she had crossed the line, knew she wounded him, the tears weren’t for her alone, they were for both of them – the fear of the hypothetical; for what they _had_ been and _could_ have been – the poison in her thoughts.

Thrawn grabbed her by both of her arms, picking her up off the floor and pressed her against the console. She moved to grab her lightsaber, but he held both of her arms tight, she struggled half-heartedly, pounding on his chest with her fists, sobbing as she did. He pushed her farther up on the ledge, pinning her with his body.

Thrawn growled something, the words she didn’t understand but the intent, he made clear. He let go one of her arms suddenly allowing her to grab the front of his uniform; pulling him to her. The kiss was cruel, full of frustration and guilt. She bit his lip causing him to gasp in surprise and pain; he jammed himself between her thighs.

Elinor could feel the waves emanating from the Grand Admiral– normally so smooth and subtle – now violent and rolling. He pulled her off the console peeling her out of her overalls in feral need. She was too focused on her own struggle of loosening his belt, to help; scraping her teeth down his jaw line and neck as she finally felt the clasp release. He wrapped an arm around her right leg, lifting her up and pivoting them both around, slamming her back against a wall.

It was passionate, but it was devoid of tenderness. Once his thrusts became erratic, she could no longer suppress her cries of aggravated pleasure. His final thrust was punctuated by his teeth sinking into the delicate flesh between her left shoulder and neck. She tried desperately to ride out her climax in silence, but she moaned in ecstasy, running her nails down his back and sobbing his name as she felt his teeth mark her.

Upon his completion, he hastily backed away, adjusted himself and muttered something in the same language he spoke before. He shook his head, maybe in disgust at her or in himself, she didn’t know; but he turned and started to walk away toward the hatch.

“Why don’t you trust me?” she called after him.

He stopped in mid-stride and turned.

“I have never stopped trusting you, Elinor.” his brow furrowed with emotion, “There will be no reason for you to hide if you do not _have_ anything to hide.”

“I’ve been hiding my entire life.” She blinked back more tears.

He shook his head again and started toward the hatch.

“You won’t be able to protect me.”

The Grand Admiral stopped again, turned, smiling coolly at her.

“I am able to and I will.”

 

He had finally fallen asleep, his body resting comfortably against hers on the floor of the cockpit.

Yes, she had understood his point of view – Harding couldn’t get blood out of a stone. There would be no knowledge of their activities and future plans for him to extract from her mind if she wasn’t aware of them.

It made sense, but somehow it still hurt thinking that Thrawn believed her incapable of warding off an attack. She was showing significant progress in her training with Ezra and she was becoming more and more confident…at least in that aspect of her life.

He fell asleep with his arm holding her to his body, his face pressed into her hair. In the night she would turn toward him and bury her face in his chest inhaling deeply, remembering how things once were…when she thought he loved her.

_Self-loathing and doubt later, Elinor._

Tonight, she was going for a walk.

Since moving the shuttle 30 kilometers northwest of its previous location, they were (as the crow flies) only 8 kilometers northeast of the Savona farm. It would be an easy walk, and with flash light in hand, she’d get there in time for the rooster call.

Elinor carefully got up, tucked the blanket around Athena, kissed Thrawn gently on the forehead and pretended to make her way to the refresher. She slipped silently into her jeans and boots and grabbed one of the headlamps she used for under vessel work.

As she walked away from the little ship, Ezra Bridger tracked her movement. His first thought was to stop her. Thrawn would not take kindly to having her wander off, but something elusive stopped him. The Force tugged him away from the thought and the compulsion to do nothing consumed him. He watched, noting her direction and general level of haste but nothing more.

 

Elinor arrived three hours before dawn; debated whether to wake the entire farm and scare her brother senseless before she could explain that everything was really and truly fine. He wouldn’t believe her, of course and so she would spend the next two hours in the barn thinking of a way to explain her reasons for making her pilgrimage to the family home.

There was no point in sitting around staring at hay or pacing around the drainage system; she milked seven of the ten cows before she saw the front porch light flick on.

Drew was half way out the front door, pulling a flannel shirt over his head before he noticed she was even there. He jumped and cursed; squinting in the dull light to get a better look at the trespasser.

“Ellie? Wha’ t’ hell?”

“Sorry Drew.” She said sheepishly.

He ran up to her, looking at her closely, barely contained panic in his eyes. “ ‘Thena ok?”

“Yes, everything’s fine. Everyone’s fine. I just wanted to come and see you.”

It sounded pathetic even to her. He’d see right through it.

He shrugged, “Welp, alright then.”

_Huh, maybe not…_

“Ya wanna talk an’ I’ll milk or ya wanna do it th’ other way ‘round?” Drew smirked.

She smirked back at him, “I already did seven, you got Marigold, Henrietta and Gertie.”

 

He stood staring out the cockpit.

It was the lack of warmth that caused him to wake. The familiar heat of Elinor was gone. The woman he loved, the mother of his child; had disappeared.

He had maneuvered the situation to this point: it would be an impossible conclusion – she would either run and hide or she would stay and fight. In either case, there would be a painful cost and that was assuming they _both_ survived, which was never a given in war.

He knew he would push her away by ostracizing her from the every-day activities; the discussions, the planning, the retrofitting of the radio transmitter and makeshift ground station to amplify the signal…She was to be kept away from it all until Harding made his next move, and Thrawn knew it would probably cause a rift in their relationship.

Perhaps an irreparable one.

Harding likely planned it that way – as a tactician the Grand Admiral understood - a divided enemy was a weakened enemy. Harding himself was likely suffering from the affliction.

His reckless actions and those of his underling, Whittland would not have garnered any favors from Commander Klary. Although Thrawn was unfamiliar with the specifics of the relationship between the two, both were power hungry which meant they would ultimately turn on each other and, in all likelihood, Klary was already regretting her alliance with Harding.

He fully expected the two would no longer be communicating directly as they would be attempting different ways to get to the same end; their only common goal being control over the Chimaera. They would probably be competing for information and once such knowledge was captured, each would hold on to their piece jealously.

While the two warred with each other the Grand Admiral would conceal his activities – the shuttle retrofit, the signal broadcast to the orbital satellites, the planned attack on the troop transport, the jamming and the timing between it and the satellite data transmittal. He would from the outside _appear_ to wait…and he would keep Elinor safe; even if it meant sheltering her from her own mind.

There was an entrance request at the cockpit door.

“Yes?”

The door slid open and Lieutenant Commander Pyrondi stepped in, “I contacted Andrew Savona, sir.” Her face warmed slightly at the mention of Elinor’s brother, “He is going to start his daily routine on his farm but will keep an eye out for her.”

“Thank you, Commander.”

“Of course, sir.”

 

Andrew finished with Gertie, the cow was always one of the last to wake up but once she was finally lumbering around, she was like a Jack Russell Terrier. Her keeper bemoaned the fact that she wasn’t much of a producer and needed to have a calf or two.

Elinor sat and wept openly – in the last year she had shed more tears than she had in her entire life prior and a part of her wondered if this was what life really was _supposed_ to be like. What she was living before was just a shadow of a life; certainly, she wasn’t as happy then, but she definitely didn’t cry as much either.

“C’mon Ellie, ya need somethin’ ta eat. Lemme go in an’ git ya somethin’” Drew wrapped his arm around her as they walked to the house.

They got to the front porch when she finally asked, “Why doesn’t he trust me Drew?”

He sighed and looked out over the field, “I dunno. I ast t’ same question to ‘Randa after Jack.” He opened the door for her and ushered her in, “I tol’ her I coulda helped ‘er if she just woulda trusted me. I promised ‘er I’d help ‘er even -even-” he sighed, “-even after Jack, but she just wouldn’t trust me ‘nough to let me in.”

“I’m sorry.” She looked down at her feet.

“ ‘im not trustin’ ya is not what yer worried ‘bout. Is it?”

She gapped at him blankly.

He tilted his head back in exaggerated exasperation, “Ya got Athena, ya got yer…blue guy –“

She raised her eyebrows, “Thrawn?”

“Yeah, whatever – Thrawn – ya got ‘im. Idn’t tha’ what ya wanted?”

Elinor scowled.

_Yes._

“So, ya got wha’ ya wanted. Now ya just got this hiccup. This boat ‘n space needs rescuin’ ‘an tha’s how ya gotta look at it.”

As usual her brother had a very unique way of cutting through the bullshit – compartmentalizing things. Drew was right; she had come out on top in all of this. She had a healthy daughter, a man who had sacrificed for her…but did he truly love her enough _not_ to leave her behind?

What would happen if they did retake the Chimaera?

There was the sound of gravel being disturbed; the sudden squeal of breaks from the driveway.

_Damn._

She knew she wouldn’t be able to hide long; it was refreshing to get away and be with someone who trusted her implicitly despite the apparent open-door-policy her mind had with the enemy. For just one moment she wanted to go back to the way things were; before Tassi, before dreams, before even Thrawn and just be _Elinor_ again.

_Selfish. So, so, selfish, Elinor._

She looked up at Drew, half expecting to see a slight spark of condemnation in his eye, but he was looking out the kitchen window shame-faced, “Crissa called me right before ya got here an’ ast me ta keep ‘n eye out fer ya.”

“What?”

He pulled out an Imperial commlink from his back pocket; her eyes instantly widening and her mouth falling open in outraged confusion.

“Where did you get that?”

“Crissa gave it ta me. Pretty handy lil do-hicky.” He grinned at her.

“Why?” she petulantly put her hands on her hips.

“Said if I wanted ta contact ‘er I kin do it on this thinga-ma-bobber.” He put the commlink back in his pocket with a self-satisfied smirk.

“If you wanted to?” her lips puckered in question, then upon seeing the brief twitch of his lip she grinned at him evilly. “Ohhhhh, you _wanted_ to. How often have you _wanted_ to?”

“Ellie.” He shook his finger at her in warning.

“Has she _wanted_ to, as well?” she teased.

There was a knock at the door.

“Elinor.”

“Does her superior officer know about you two _wanting_ this arrangement?”

“Elinor Elizabeth!”

“I plead sanctuary, hide me and he won’t find out.” she gritted her teeth.

Another knock, this one more forceful.

“Fine, go ‘round back.”

She walked briskly to the back of the house, half wondering what the hell she was doing. Running away from a car load of Imperials was probably the most stupid, immature thing she’d ever done.

_What is wrong with you, Elinor?_

Maybe she could circle around and head back to the camp without them noticing, take Athena and leave.

_What are you thinking, Elinor?_

The thought terrified her, why would she ever consider taking her daughter away from the people who loved her, protected her; her own father!

_He doesn’t love you, Elinor!_

_Where is this coming from?_

She didn’t have additional time to ponder the question or to focus further the thoughts and the subsequent emotions; whomever was at the front door would likely be coming into the house very soon.

Indeed, Elinor was opening the window in the downstairs bedroom when the sound of a familiar voice caught her ear. It was not a voice she was expecting; high and whiny – usually chirping about this frivolity or that. There were other voices too; familiar in context with the first. Ellie gasped.

Her entourage was here!

 

“-heard your brother-in-law was in town.” Fink was saying matter-of-factly, but there was a slight edge to his voice that only someone who had spent a significant amount of time with Benjamin would have recognized.

He was frustrated, nervous, scared; Ellie heard that in his voice and confirmed it by reaching out through the Force to look at the waves he created around himself. He was upset and worried beyond belief for his best friend. Her heart ached upon seeing the wave sadly move around; pacing for the comfort that the person creating it would not find until he had answers.

“Uh…yeah. Where’d ya hear ‘bout Art?” Drew seemed off-centered.

She reached out to him too. The wave around him was also worried but it was a different kind of anxiety. She concentrated – her eyes widened, and she almost whooped with delight; clasping her hands around her mouth to keep herself from giggling.

Her brother and Lieutenant Commander Crissa Pyrondi shared more than just a commlink conversation and Andrew was genuinely worried she would rat them out to the Grand Admiral.

_Ridiculous, really._

If she knew Thrawn, he was probably already aware of their affair; chuckling over Drew’s sanctimony, no doubt.

“Henry Schlizer contacted us.” Allen said sounding cold.

“That PI ya guys hired?” Drew asked.

“Yeah, and you know what else?” Rick sounded like he was in the far corner of the living room, “Dick Tracy said your ex didn’t have a brother.”

Tate chimed in; always so diplomatically “So, I guess what we’d like to know is, if that guy was after money from you?”

“And if he knows anything about Ellie?” Mark added.

She continued to reach out to all of them; each one a sea of emotion. They had been devastated by her disappearance and it was ripping them apart. Elinor couldn’t take it anymore, and as Drew opened his mouth to stammer out an awkward response, she rounded the corner and stepped into the room.

“Hi.”

 

Absolute silence for a heartbeat.

And then a tidal wave of stimuli.

Sound – “Where have you been?”; “What happened?”; “Where’s the baby?”; “Why didn’t you call?”; “What the fuck, Savona?”

Touch – Hugs mostly; fierce and relieved to see her, Rick picked her up, Mark gave her a kiss on the cheek.

Smell – Tate was wearing his usual aftershave and Mark had spilled BBQ sauce on his t-shirt.

She worked so hard to answer all the questions but really the most important one; the most pressing was Athena. What had happened to her baby?

“She’s safe, she was born healthy – 7 pounds, 2 ounces.”

There were oo’s and ah’s.

“Pictures?” Fink asked hopefully, “Uncle Finky wants pictures.”

“Yeah Savona, pics or it didn’t happen!” Rick wiggled his eyebrows at her.

“Uh, not yet. We’re going to take her to get them done sometime…once things settle down.”

“Wait, we?”

“What do you mean when things settle down?”

She sighed.

Ellie looked down at her lap, “I um – I found the baby’s father.”

There was stunned silence. She had never really gone into details about him with her friends. Fink had from conversations assumed he had died, Allen, Tate and Mark assumed the bastard had left her; only Rick knew the child’s father wasn’t human.

“AWESOME!” he beamed!

The other four looked at him skeptically – Rick Haines wasn’t one to show too much enthusiasm for romance.

“That’s great, Ellie!” Mark smiled softly, “Does he know? Is he…?”

She bobbed her head, “Yes he knows. We’re both very happy.”

The obvious missing part “and together” was left hanging awkwardly in the air.

“So, what did you mean about things settling down?” Tate asked.

“Oh, uh – I mean once I get out of –“

_Think, Elinor! Think._

“-witness protection.” She looked down at her lap.

They all gasped. She heard Drew wheeze and looked at him, pleadingly.

“Oh my God, Ellie!” Fink started to tear up, “I’m so sorry!”

“It’s ok, Fink.” Her face was red – she was lying like a rug to her friends. Her face contorted with emotion over her selfishness.

_What is wrong with you, Elinor?_

Instead of identifying her deception by her flushed cheeks they took her twisted features as the beginnings of tears and all of them rushed to comfort her. In the end she required it because she had lied to her friends repeatedly; people that loved her like family and she went about her life blissfully unaware of their anxiety over her disappearance.

_Selfish. So, so, selfish, Elinor._

 

Tabitha Yermentic gazed out over the trees as she held the baby in her arms. Athena was a quiet child and as far as the doctor could tell, healthy and the most sweetly dispositioned baby she’d ever been around. It wasn’t too surprising given her parentage; still, Yermentic found it enjoyable to watch over her.

Thrawn and Elinor’s daughter was just six weeks and already trying to roll herself over; gurgling in slight frustration when she couldn’t quite make it. She would razz to her amusement and others when she did happen to flip herself over and lay still for some time relishing in her accomplishment, warbling to herself.

Yermentic smiled down at the sleeping child, wondering idly if Thrawn knew what he had gotten himself into. As if he heard her mental inquiry and felt the need to address it, the Grand Admiral strode into the storage bay of the shuttle the doctor had been using as a sick bay. He had to bend slightly to enter but then was able to stand to his full height as he approached.

“Sir?” she smiled happily.

“Doctor.” He nodded.

He gently reached down to smooth Athena’s hair away from her forehead and Yermentic noticed the Chiss was smiling - only slightly.

_But he’s smiling._

Yermentic had been the Chimaera’s CMO for years. The Grand Admiral wasn’t what anyone would call outgoing or enthusiastic; more private, reserved and in some ways sad and very lonely. He was the only Chiss in Imperial space; surrounded by strange beings, the majority of which, viewed him with contempt simply because of his appearance.

He’d been hiding for years behind heavy burdens.

Then Elinor Savona came along, and the doctor almost laughed at the thought of it. The two were so similar - emotionally remote; both weighed down by their own afflictions.

Yermentic never thought Thrawn _didn’t_ experience emotion, choosing to believe it was muffled in some way. She found it was a poor assumption on her part. The Grand Admiral felt every emotion as keenly as she or any other human would; it was the expression of that feeling that was muted.

“Has she been asleep long?” Thrawn asked looking down at his daughter.

“No, sir.”

He nodded absently, “Good. I must ask that you look after her. I do not know for how long.”

Tabitha felt her brow furrow, “Is everything ok, sir?”

There was a pause. Under normal military etiquette, the pause would be indicative of a superior officer’s polite but pointed way of nonverbally informing a subordinate to cease with their line of questioning. However, as Yermentic was the CMO and Thrawn hadn’t ever really subscribed to “normal military etiquette”, the doctor arched her eyebrows and waited for the Grand Admiral to explain.

“Elinor is missing.”

“What? When?” Yermentic barked, nearly rousing the sleeping baby in her arms.

Thrawn pursed his lips; looking almost annoyed.

“She left sometime in the night, of her own free will. Lieutenant Commander Pyrondi contacted her brother to inform him of her disappearance and we have since heard back from him. She is there.”

“Why did she run away?” Yermentic wrinkled her nose.

Thrawn gave her a withering look.

Yermentic eyed him and shook her head slowly, “For someone so damn brilliant in battle, you don’t know dewback dung about women, do you?”

 

Elinor’s father used to joke that the city mice love to come to the country, and it was always amusing to watch them when they did. Fink was especially taken with watching the chickens. Drew rolled his eyes and tried to explain multiple times that the eggs weren’t meant to be hatched – they only had one rooster and he was so old he could barely walk.

“Why do you have a rooster?” Fink asked; he was as interested as if Drew was discussing the latest Hollywood fashions or the new romantic comedy in the movie theater – Fink stuff.

“It’s ta goad th’ girls inta producin’.”

Fink gasped in outrage, “Oh. My. God. You’re using your chicken as a _pimp_?”

Drew squinted at him then turned to Elinor for clarification, “ ‘e serious?”

“ ‘fraid so.” She giggled.

Drew turned back around to Fink, “Nah, nah – that’s not how it works, see when –“

Elinor slinked away chuckling. It would be best to leave Drew to explain the finer points of chicken rearing, egg production and fertilization while she talked with the others.

“So, how’s Bob?” Rick asked from behind her.

She grinned, “He’s good.”

“We going to be able to meet him some day?”

She shrugged noncommittally.

He grunted, “What color’s the kiddo?”

“She’s a beautiful shade of blue.”

“Sweet!”

“What’s sweet?” Tate trotted up – he, Allen and Mark had watched the cows.

What was it about city people loving to come to a farm? If they knew how much work it was to run one, they’d head back to concrete in a hurry.

“Uh.” Rick wrinkled his nose like he was going to sneeze, giving Elinor time to think of something sly.

_Smooth, traitor._

“I started driving again.”

“No way! That’s great, Elinor! The seizures must be a lot better.” Tate grinned.

“Yep.”

_If only they knew…_

 

She promised she would see them again; it couldn’t be too soon, but it wouldn’t be months either. Ellie would arrange something with Drew, and they would meet up again at the farm – and yes, maybe next time she could bring Athena!

They hugged her good-bye, Fink cried, hugged her again and promised to leave messages with Drew as often as he could. By the time they left, she was emotionally spent; left crying quietly in the driveway. A large part of her really wanted to go with them; back to TES and her calculations, when life was simple. She could take Athena and they could stay with Drew. No one would ever know that her daughter existed – Ellie could keep her hidden out here and work remotely instead of having to go into Uptown.

The idea was so appealing it brought more tears – stinging burning sobs that stuck in her chest making it hard for her to inhale completely.

_Why?_

Why was she thinking of this?

It was impossible, not to mention, she _really_ didn’t want to do it. There was Thrawn, and the Chimaera; there were the thousands of Imperials on the ship that hadn’t seen their families in well over a year.

She heard Drew’s voice behind her, “Yeah, yeah, don’t turn purple on me! Why didn’t ya come an’ look fer her ta start wit?”

She scowled and turned her head, to find Drew smirking and giving her a thumbs up, “Who are you talking to?”

“Hey, listen Grand Master Dawn or Palmolive er whatever the hell yer name is, she’s my sister, I’ve known her a hellava lot longer than _you_ have…Oh wha? Ya gunna shoot me again? –“

“ANDREW!” She was reaching for the commlink, hopping up and down trying to get to it while he was smiling demonically, looking for all the world like he was having the time of his life.

“-Okay, ya blue sonava bitch come ‘n git her.”

She had unhooked her lightsaber and was about ready to activate it and threaten him with castration via laser sword if he didn’t give her the commlink, but it was too late. He hung up on the Imperial Grand Admiral.

“WHAT. DID. YOU. DO?” Elinor screamed.

“Aw, nothin’ just two guys havin’ a good ol’ time. I’m gunna load up Dad’s ol’ twenty gauge.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello,
> 
> One more chapter for today should leave at a spot...coming up momentarily.


	48. Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning:  
> Minor violence
> 
> In This Chapter:  
> A normal life  
> Constant subliminal messaging  
> Situation normal: Thrawn is at Ezra's throat  
> Elinor Savona unleashed  
> Harding's attack - in a dream  
> He wants Athena  
> Thrawn's stoic response - Ezra's defense  
> She's gone.

 

It was a furious looking Crissa Pyrondi that came to get her. Andrew sat on the porch step whittling, fully expecting the Lieutenant Commander to take her very obvious wrath out on him. To his surprise she aimed her fury at Elinor.

“What in all Nine Hells were you thinking, Elinor?” the woman fumed.

Drew noted that his sister just stood, shoulders hunched, eyes vacant and unseeing; letting Crissa lay into her like she didn’t even hear her. She acted like she was too busy thinking about what was coming next to really care what Pyrondi was saying. Like she was going back to a prison.

He frowned.

She swore she loved the guy and he knew she loved Athena; but it was becoming increasingly clear the Imperial wasn’t good for Elinor. He hadn’t actually come right out and told her what his intensions were – someone like Ellie just couldn’t deal with that uncertainty. She was meticulous and regimented; planned everything. The fact that she didn’t know whether she was fighting to stay with him or fighting just so he could leave her behind again was ripping her to shreds.

Her solution was to simply stop fighting; to hide.

She gave him a hasty hug and muttered her thanks as she climbed into the SUV Crissa had driven. While she clambered into the back, Drew stepped over to the Lieutenant Commander, careful to look appropriately remorseful at the situation he’d put her in.

“I think I know why she did it.” He bobbed his head thoughtfully.

“Oh? You want to tell the blue son of a bitch about it?” she asked acidly.

_Welp, that didn’t go well._

“Hey, he hasn’t tol’ her nothin’ about anythin’ – he hasn’t even come right out and said the three words.”

Pyrondi looked at him like he’d grown a second head, “What three words?”

“Ya know,” he tilted his head, widened his eyes and waited.

“No. _Hence_ the question.”

He sighed, “He hasn’t told ‘er he loves ‘er. He hasn’t told ‘er he ain’t leavin’ ‘er again.”

Crissa’s brow furrowed and there was a long pause, “I’m not surprised.”

“Whadda mean? Ya think he dun’t love ‘er? ‘Cause she certainly ain’t convinced.”

Pyrondi shook her head and started around to the driver side of the car, “No. That’s not it. It’s just…”

“Wha?” Drew pressed.

“The Grand Admiral isn’t the type.”

“Oh he’s, not is he? He’s just th’ kind ta make kids an’ break their mother’s hearts.” Drew snarled, “Do me a favor, tell th’ blue sonava bitch if ‘e steps foot on my farm ‘gain I’ll blow ‘is damn head off.”

Crissa gave him a pained look, “Drew, please don’t do this. You’ll only be hurting Elinor.”

“Nah I’m serious Crissa, somebody’s gotta do th’ right thing. If he ain’t goin’ to, he kin send Ellie and Athena ta me. I’ll take care of ‘em ‘an he doesn’t have ta worry ‘bout ‘em getting’ in the way while he’s off playin’ war.”

The Lieutenant Commander stepped toward him slowly, “Then what am I?”

“Whatever ya wanna be, Crissa.”

She didn’t take her eyes off him but instead nodded slowly, sadly. Turning she got back into the car only to hear a sobbing Elinor in the back seat and in the back recesses of her mind Crissa Pyrondi also wondered what it would be like to have a _normal_ life.

 

 

The elation in Finkleton’s e-mail was apparent.

 

**From: Benjamin J. Finkleton**

**To: Henry L. Schlizer**

**RE: RE: Elinor Savona Disappearance Case ID 5872**

**Mr. Schlizer,**

**Using the information from your e-mail dated April 19, 2019, I spoke with Andrew Savona earlier today and determined that there was just a misunderstanding. The gentlemen with Mr. Savona was a contractor in the area looking to do some work on the family farm and was just passing through. I don’t believe there is foul play involved, though, I appreciate your assistance and continued diligence.**

**Thank you kindly,**

**B. Finkleton**

 

The man known as Henry Schlizer – Martin Tassi – George Harding smiled.

She was there.

Elinor Savona had likely gotten his consistent subliminal messages; gentle prods toward her more uncertain, insecure self without even realizing what was happening. Her pitiful lack of confidence would make his next _message_ so much easier.

She wouldn’t see it coming.

 

They stood facing each other, silently arguing as they usually did. The Chiss wanted answers; had no time for riddles, but the young Jedi seemed incapable of being anything other than enigmatic. Thrawn’s ire was getting the better of him and he felt a headache start to form behind his eyes.

Ezra Bridger shook his head solemnly for the third time, declining to provide even a hint as to his theories of what was happening inside the mind of Elinor Savona.

“I grow tired, Bridger.” Thrawn growled, “You are aware of what is happening.”

The boy didn’t respond; didn’t refute the other’s words, instead turned away to hide his guilt.

“I can’t tell you Thrawn.”

Something inside the Grand Admiral was unleashed, he grabbed the boy, flung him across the shuttle compartment. Ezra recovered, barrel rolling away from the Chiss who was already positioned for another attack. Thrawn spun, kicking the Jedi solidly in the chest slamming him hard against the wall. Before the enraged Imperial could stalk toward him to continue his assault, Ezra removed his lightsaber from his belt.

Thrawn paused.

“I told you once I couldn’t tell you things for your own good, as much as I’m regretting it now, it was true.” The Jedi ground out through clenched teeth, “This time, it’s bigger than you. Elinor has got to do this. It’s her fight, Thrawn. Not yours.”

The Chiss’s eyes narrowed, “Then you will tell me, why you are qualified to decide on the matter.”

“I’m not but she is and she’s here.”

Indeed, there was the distinctive sound of a vehicle arriving at the make-shift camp – the crunch of twigs, movement of stone and dirt under the heavy load of the SUV the Imperials used as general transport around the area.

The Grand Admiral’s jaw muscles seemed to relax. Ezra took the opportunity to hook his lightsaber back onto his belt, carefully keeping an eye on the Chiss.

Elinor slowly ascended the ramp, her eyes stubbornly focused on her boots; refusing to look up at the two men gapping at her. She casually walked between them, muttered a greeting absently and headed to the cockpit. Thrawn’s eyes tracked her; his brow furrowed.

“Elinor?”

She ignored him; instead going immediately to their “room”. He inhaled shapely, moved to follow but stopped when the door slid immediately open again.

“Where’s Athena?” she gawked at them – as if finally realizing they were there.

Ezra stepped forward and he too, Thrawn noted, was concerned by his expression and body language. His hand was hovering slightly near his lightsaber. The Grand Admiral subtly moved his hand toward his holstered blaster.

“She’s safe, Elinor.” Bridger shrugged casually, “Did you enjoy your time with your brother.”

Elinor’s eyes shifted restlessly, and she started to tremble, “NO!” she spat suddenly looking directly at Thrawn, “NO! YOU WON’T TAKE HER!”

He didn’t have time to ask; there was no time to step forward to comfort her or convince her, he nor their daughter would be going nowhere without her knowledge or approval. Her own lightsaber flew into her hand igniting in mid-air and she charged toward him.

 

George Harding had rested for days. It would take a great deal of energy to accomplish what he wanted but he was very persuasive, and in the end, he would convince her. One way or the other.

He had worked to sow the seeds; planting suggestions and capitalizing on her enduring insecurities and in so doing Harding had set her up to want to run and hide. He would give her someone to run _to_ and hide _with_.

The mere idea of someone so powerful being so uncertain in their situation and abilities was laughable.

_Use it._

She was terrified the alien would leave her when, in reality Elinor Savona could warp the minds of men.

_Show her._

All the woman needed was the burning, passionate power inside her but she used her friends as a crutch.

_Take them away._

He was ready and she was too.

Harding found her in a darkened Imperial shuttle and smiled; the perfect scene for their new beginning together. She searched for her daughter and he sighed with pleasure, feeling the slight fear creep into her upon not locating the sleeping child immediately.

_Now._

“Hello again, Elinor.” He called gently to her mind.

“No!” she tried to push back against the contact.

“Now, now. Don’t be rude. I want to talk to you.” He admonished.

“Go away!” she redoubled her efforts to claw him out of her subconscious, but he held on.

He chuckled, “I have a proposition for you.”

“I don’t want to hear it!” she snarled.

“I understand the alien is interested in leaving again.”

Her struggle lessened, just slightly.

He continued, “And you are concerned for Athena.” He let the name roll off his tongue languidly.

Elinor began resisting again, this time trying to push back _into_ him. It was adorable.

“I can offer something that would help you _and_ your daughter.”

“You can’t offer me anything, you bastard!”

“I can offer you the power to make him stay with you, the power to keep her safe, the power to take back the Chimaera.” He soothed.

“And what the hell do you want in return?”

“I want to go with you.”

She stopped. Completely. Her resistance faltered.

“What? Go where?”

“When you leave on the Chimaera, I only wish to go with you.” He explained matter-of-factly.

“I don’t believe you.”

“I didn’t think that you would, my dear.” He projected his kind smile into her mind’s eye.

“We’re at an impasse, let me go and leave me alone.” She said but he could feel her uncertainty now. He was making headway. Significant progress and quickly too. Harding found himself mildly disappointed.

“Let me prove to you my intensions, meet me. Face-to-face.”

In the back recesses of her mind he heard her.

_Idiot._

He laughed.

“What about Klary?” she asked hesitantly.

“What about her?”

“You’re in league with her. She’s holding the Chimaera. How would you ever be able to take back the ship?”

“That’s where I would need your help, Elinor. With our combined power, I’m sure we’ll be able to deal with Klary.”

He felt something in her, a feeling that she was hiding. He focused on it. It continued to elude him even while she questioned him.

“What about Thrawn?”

“I assume you and Thrawn will be quite content living aboard the Chimaera with Athena, of course,” he stifled his own emotional response to the idea and in his opinion he did it very well.

Elinor’s emotional response was intriguing. It remained vague and refused to be handled. Harding knew he needed to be cautious. If he did not capture it completely, he would run the risk of alerting her to his subterfuge. She would wiggle from his grasp before he’d be able to open the gem to look inside and the damage might be more than he could repair.

He recalled her defiance during their previous encounters in the same medium. Her subtle approach to resistance was commendable and something he had yet to fully understand and develop a comprehensive strategy for dealing with.

_Do not make the same mistake twice._

“Why do you want to go?”

“Elinor, you of all people should appreciate the learning opportunities involved in galactic exploration!” he chided her, “Think of all of the things that can be learned! Think of the things you could experience!”

And once again there was the muttering in the back of her mind, which he caught – an almost spontaneous verbal response.

_And all the power to be had by a megalomaniac like you._

He let her fleeting thought go, not wanting her to know he could perceive so deep into her subliminal mind.

“You expressed an interest in our daughter previously.” She continued.

Harding felt a stirring of anger at her choice of “our” – bringing up the alien, even indirectly, as the parent of such a powerful being, was perhaps an attempt at goading him into revealing something.

“With your assistance, there will be no need for your daughter’s support.”

“Are you sure? Thrawn would not appreciate it, if _our_ daughter was used for your whims.”

“They are hardly whims!”

“So, you do have a plan then?” she queried.

By deflecting away from the thing that angered him, he walked into a trap – how Grand Admiral Thrawn of her. He chuckled.

“I do have some, yes. It would be foolish to fling yourself out into space without at least some sort of strategy.”

“That’s exactly what we’d be doing, Thrawn doesn’t know how to get back.” she was starting to fidget around his loosened mental grip.

Thrawn.

He was tired of hearing about the damned alien. Curse the blue abomination; his function was done – he had sired a powerful tool - Harding would use that tool along with her mother.

“With both of us, we can plot the way to-“

“I don’t plot anything.” she said bluntly.

The elusive emotions in her were starting to writhe around vigorously, but his gift stayed his hand; showing some watchful trust would yield trust (or at least some).

_Careful._

Harding smiled lightly, “I can.”

“Then why do you need me? Or Thrawn? Or _our_ daughter?”

_Now._

His gift had always guided him correctly; he had no doubt in his actions. Elinor’s subtle emotion, so elusive; refusing to be captured, suddenly stopped its violent twisting. His mind latched onto it, clawed it open.

The mental blast caused his physical body – located in Henry L. Schlizer’s office in Uptown to topple over; the connection wasn’t broken though, and he briefly flared trying to shield himself.

Too late.

She saw.

“YOU!” she snarled

“I’ll have her Elinor! And you and the Chimaera!”

“I’ll die before you take her away!”

“No” he grinned, “You’ll live a long happy life with her and _me_ , on the Chimaera!”

She screamed at him trying desperately to push at his rising defenses, pummeling him with her sad attempts at mental warfare. He laughed and sent his own blast at her, throwing her away; sending her back in a state of delirium with her sobbing.

“NO! YOU WON’T TAKE HER!”

 

Grand Admiral Thrawn stood perfectly still as the women, rushed at him; her archaic Jedi weapon drawn. She raised the purple blade above her head; he wasn’t watching it. He was watching her.

He always watched her.

The pupils of her eyes were constricted such that they were just small black spots in a molten sea of angry brown and green. They were beautiful and terrifying; haunting and captivating; he loved them so much it hurt his soul to see the sickness that clouded them.

He inhaled. Death was inevitable for all warriors in battle; but he would not lift a hand against her.

Thrawn didn’t have to.

Another flash of purple abruptly flared to life blocking the blade she was bringing down on him. It’s wielder, a boy who, the Grand Admiral was certain, had wished for his death more than once, pushed the other saber away from the Chiss roughly, stepping in front of Thrawn defensively.

Elinor moved her head back and forth, unseeing her lips moving silently.

“Elinor!”

She jerked and murmured something but raised the lightsaber and advanced toward Ezra. Suddenly she stopped, her face contorted in pain and fear. Her scream pierced the air, dropping her lightsaber as if it had physically burned her hand.

Thrawn immediately ran to her and caught her in his arms as she convulsed. There was no need to call for Yermentic; she had heard the shrill cry of agony. With needle in hand, the doctor avoided the struggle with the woman’s over clothing and chose instead to shove the needle right through her pant leg. The violent twitching stopped but her eyes remained open; they dilated and focused on the man holding her.

“Thrawn. I’m sorry.” She whispered.

And then she was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello,
> 
> Once again, thank you for your continued patience and understanding. Apologies if their are errors - typo, spelling and other; my keyboard is still acting a bit funny (you see what I did there? I made a likely excuse for my terrible typing skills)
> 
> No seriously I did spill soda on it! I swear!
> 
> Thank you again! :)


	49. Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning:  
> None
> 
> In This Chapter:  
> The Feynman Lectures  
> Romance and the attentions of men  
> Ellie's first pair of glasses  
> August and cold  
> The Unexpected Answer  
> Dr. Elinor Elizabeth Savona  
> When it comes back around...  
> "I don't believe that!"  
> Sleeping Bag  
> Mike  
> In love with Thrawn  
> That voice....

 

_When the mind perceives time, it does so in discrete portions. Some of those separate pieces are like photons – little packets of light and energy; others are shattered pieces of mirror – sharp…and incredible painful._

 

She was sitting on the bench in the sunlight reading the Feynman Lectures – the third set was her favorite. The book wasn’t hers; it was on loan through the Brantix County Book Club which had put in a special requested for her from the inner city Uptown Public Library. But she loved it; the feel of the pages the smell of old paper and of course, the physics.

Ellie practically sang with joy when it finally arrived.

To mark her place, she used a pressed wild flower which she had placed gently next to her on her wooden perch. She brushed the long strand of hair that had come out of her braid, back behind her ear absently as she read Chapter 8 on Hamiltonian Matrices.

That’s when the rock hit her.

The high school boy charged up to her; he was tall and muscled. His physical characteristics made sense once you found out he was one of the star football players, otherwise one would likely assume he just had an affinity for red meat, lifting weights and possibly steroids.

Elinor pursed her lips and tried not to shrink back. Drew had been very specific about this – don’t let the bully know you’re afraid.

But she _was_ afraid.

She was eight years old and Billy Clipton was a seventeen-year-old testosterone-driven _very_ angry jock that had been embarrassed in front of the whole school; the whole community.

Ellie had tried to help him, gently warning the star athlete of the dangers of playing with his old cleats. She found him next to his locker the day before the big game and suggested he get new cleats – it would be important for the next game.

“Wha’ would a lil’ girl know ‘bout it?” he laughed.

She hunched her shoulders under his mocking gaze and told him the truth, “I had a dream that you tripped, and I was worried.”

His friends surrounding him near his locker ooo-ed and ahh-ed jokingly, “Hey looks like Billy’s got a lil’ fan!”

“Ah shut it!” he yelled at the spectators then turning back to her, “Go ‘way, ya don’t know wha’ ya talkin’ ‘bout.”

She bowed her head in defeat – Dad always said, you could lead a horse to water, but you couldn’t make it drink.

She at least _tried_.

Elinor Savona didn’t attend the game. She had homework and chores. But when she arrived at school the morning after, everyone was in an uproar; like something had gotten into the chicken coop and the hens had to peck their way out.

Billy Clipton was wide open, the pass was as good as caught for the game winning touchdown, but suddenly the bottom of his right cleat came loose, worn and torn from excessive use (he could never be without his lucky cleats!), causing him to trip and fall forward. The school didn’t win the coveted Brantix trophy and Billy Clipton was dubbed from that moment on, Trippy Clippy.

And now, Clipton was mad at _her_.

Apparently, Ellie’s warning wasn’t as forceful or as persistent as it should have been.

“Hey, freak!” he growled at her.

“Billy.” She nodded, keeping her voice even.

“Ya got other advice fer me? Like which eye ya want swollen shut?”

She swallowed.

_Don’t let the bully know you’re afraid._

She decided to be silent. Instead she grabbed her flower; placing it delicately halfway in Chapter 8 of Richard Feynman’s teaching masterpiece and carefully slid off the bench away from her tormenter.

Nothing in life was every easy.

Billy followed her and placed his massive body in her path, “Where ya think yer goin’?”

She bowed her head – maybe it would be wise to acquiesce. She had noted from her perusal of literature the near universal characteristic of antagonists wanting to instill fear in others. Perhaps, if she allowed Billy Clipton his moment, his need to terrify her would be sated and she could go on her way.

Ellie didn’t need to _act_ terrified though – she really truly was. The boy was huge, and she could never hope to out run him, “I-um-I was going back to the school.” She bit her lip.

She clutched her book closer to her and hoped he would let her pass given she looked appropriately scared, but as he stood over her a sickening feeling fell over Elinor. She looked up through tears.

“Ya goin’ back to school are ya?” he sneered as he grabbed her book.

She gasped in horror.

He looked at her and then at the book in triumph.

“What’s this? This yer only friend?” he smirked at her.

The tears were free flowing now; down her sun burned cheeks, “Please” she croaked.

The older boy shrugged and began ripping out the pages of the book while Elinor Savona screamed and sobbed trying desperately to stop him. When she found it to be a futile attempt due to his size and strength, she tried to catch the papers as they fell to the ground, but Billy Clipton stomped on them, catching her small fingers several times as she frantically tried to save what remained.

As he walked away chortling boisterously, she found what was left of the small flower she used as a place holder.

 

She was thirteen. Her hair in pig tails. Her father loved it in pig tails; he thought it looked cute. She didn’t much care how it made her look – it kept it out of her face and away from her eyes.

She had matured early. Both her brother and father watched her carefully when they went into town to deliver milk to the “vat”. Several of the men – Drew’s age – ten years older than her would offer her lingering glances. Elinor never noticed but Andrew and Thomas Savona did.

She had read about the attentions of men – her favorite “romance” as she thought of it, was “A Tale of Two Cities” by Charles Dickens. When she mentioned this to one of her school teachers, Elinor was informed that “A Tale of Two Cities” was _not_ romantic.

Her brow furrowed in question, “But what about Mr. Canton and Miss Manette?”

“That’s hardly romantic!” her teacher remarked.

But Elinor found it to be so. Someone loyal, someone wanting to do anything to help you and the people you loved, someone committed to easing your pain despite the continuation of their own suffering. How much more of a loving gesture could there be?

It was significantly more real than “Pride and Prejudice” – how shallow – rich, handsome but miserable man, seeks beautiful, obstinate, socially-less-fortunate woman. He is declined, ergo he seeks to undergo treatment for a personality disorder thereby winning her heart. Elinor finished the book; laughing at the absurdity of it.

She was reading “The Picture of Dorian Gray” in the loft one afternoon when she overheard Drew and her father. Their discussion stemmed from their concerns over the “attentions of men”.

“I dunno Drew, she dunn’t need ta be goin’. She’s only thirteen.” Her father was milking one of the more mulish cows.

…back when they had sixteen and no machine.

“I don’t agree. It’s impor’ant an’ just ‘cause Ellie’s advanced –“ there was a pause, “more ways than one, she needs ta git th’ whole experience.”

“Wait a minute. When ya say, whole experience…?”

“Ahhh Dad! I don’t wanna hear ‘bout you and Ma on prom night!”

Her father’s hooting laughter could be heard below her, causing her to grin and wrinkle her nose.

“But that’s th’ experience ya talkin’ ‘bout!” her father’s tone was serious now, “Tha’s what all of ‘em are doin’”

“ ‘Randa and I didn’t do it.” Drew sounded a combination of offended and embarrassed.

“That’s ‘cause yer mother caught ya two up in the loft a couple a days before that.”

At this revelation, Elinor’s eyes widened, and she sat up quickly from the block of hay she’d been sitting on, looking furtively around for residual evidence of teenage sexual promiscuity. Finding none, she sat back down hesitantly.

Drew ignored their father’s comment, “If it makes ya feel better I’ll take ‘er an’ pick ‘er up.”

“That’s assumin’ she wan’s ta go.”

She stood up and looked down, quizzically, “Go where?”

“Ta yer high school prom.” Her father said absently not bothering to look up.

Drew on the other hand looked mortified, “How long ya been up there?”

“I heard the part where you implied Mom and Dad had sex on prom night and the part about you and Miranda losing your virginity up here in the loft – thanks by the way for the heads up – I read up here you know - and I heard that it’s socially acceptable to have coital interactions with boys before, during or after a high school dance.”

“NOOOOO!” both men shouted, Drew waving his arms emphatically while her father shook his head.

 

They found one of her mother’s old dresses, it was dark blue with pale blue flowers on it; it fit perfectly. They had to go into town to find her shoes that would fit. All she had were boots and an old pair of Drew’s sneakers.

They made her practice walking in them every night – they were heels, and she loathed them. Ellie promised herself if she could get through the prom wearing them, she would sneak out of the house early the next morning and feed them to the goats - Checkers and Butter – they’d eat anything.

She’d wear the sneakers to graduation, thank you very much!

The thought made her smile just enough so when the photographer took her picture, it actually looked like she was happy to be there. Drew and Dad had dropped her off at the school and said they’d be back if she needed them. All she had to do was ask one of the chaperones to contact them.

Everyone there was four years older than her and ravenously interested in something other than dancing. She knew how to dance certainly – Mom and Dad taught her and Drew how to swing dance but what they were doing at prom was _not_ that. If anything, their tongues were doing the dancing and Ellie blushed; diverted her eyes shyly.

For most of the evening she sat alone at a table watching. There was an hour left until they named the so-called court where the class elected a king and a queen.

Elinor really wanted to interject to the announcer that monarchs weren’t elected, usually their seat of power was established by birth or by force.

One more hour until the silly election and then one more hour of watching the royalty dance. She was in the home stretch, when three girls sat down near her, giggling jollily each wearing brightly colored dresses and extravagant amounts of makeup. Their nails were done prettily and when they laughed their breath smelled of alcohol.

“Yer th’ smart girl arechya? One of them drawled.

Ellie blinked.

“Whaaaa?” the second one squinted at her.

“Ohhhh yeah! I know yaaaa, yer in myhistoryclass.”

“Hi.” Elinor bobbed her head.

“Hey hey didja come wit a date?” the first one asked

All three laughed hysterically.

“No, my dad and my brother dropped me off.”

“Awwwww”

“Sooo sad.”

“That’s sooo sweet.”

Ellie pursed her lips. It was going to be a long two hours.

“Hey smart girl, do ya wannahavsum fun.”

She coughed as one of the girls breathed on her; the smell of liquor repugnant.

“No, thank you.”

“Ohhh c’mon I got yer fun right here.” The second girl in a bright pink dress produced a small metal flask from a jeweled purse she’d been carrying around. “It makes ya smarter!”

The other two snorted and burst into giggles.

“C’mon sweetie, live a little, open up.”

The girl had opened up the flask and tipped it back toward Elinor’s mouth. Recalling the conversation between her father and brother that she eaves-dropped on and the stigma of prom, she didn’t want to disappoint them.

There was no way she was getting booze on her mother’s dress and making her family think she’d gotten stupidly drunk and been had by some idiot in an ill-fitting tuxedo.

She kicked back her chair, using her hands to push back on the table, the force of which sent the girl with the pink dress slouching over; the flask spilling on the pretty silk fabric.

“Ya little bitch!” she screamed.

Ellie stared at the flask lying on the floor, her eyes darting to the chaperones, all clustered together on the opposite side of the wide gymnasium. The other two girls had gotten awkwardly to their feet, one bumped into the other trying to grab the liquor bottle before the adults caught sight of the upheaval and came to investigate. The girl with the pink dress though, didn’t seem to care about covering her tracks. She looked down at her ruined dress, fumbled in her shinny bag for something to wipe herself off with; cursing as she did.

Elinor could only stare in horror, she back peddled. There was no time to get to one of the adults and the music was too loud to call for help.

_Get out!_

_Now!_

It was too late. The girl had dug out a small sample bottle of perfume, grabbing the younger girl by her upper arm; her acrylic nails digging painfully into Ellie’s skin. She sprayed the scented mist at her head; maliciously aiming for her eyes.

When the prom queen was announced she wore a pink dress. She had accidently spilled something on the front of it – she had always been so enduringly clumsy. No one noticed her breath smelled like bourbon.

No one noticed the thirteen-year-old girl trying desperately to splash water from one of the drinking fountains into her burning eyes.

No one noticed Elinor Savona much after she got her first pair of glasses.

 

She was fourteen and cold. It was August but it was cold. The wind whipped at a stray wisp of hair and her father gently pushed it behind her ear as the hot tears slowly streaked down her face.

“Yer gunna be ok, Ellie Bean. Yer gunna be fine.”

She blinked and bobbed her head, sending more tears down her face.

Drew was standing by Dad, his own eyes red rimmed, “We got the phone now Ellie, so ya kin call any time ya want to. They got phones in the dorms, here ‘an yer scholarship gives ya a stipend so ya got one a those phone cards.”

She bobbed her head again, too afraid that if she spoke her voice would crack.

“Before ya know it yer gunna be studyin’ quintsum mechanics ‘an yer gunna ferget all ‘bout us.”

“Quantum mechanics, Dad.” She smiled thinly, “and I won’t forget about you.”

“There ya go – she’s already got ‘er head inta the game, see tha’ Drew.” Dad smacked his son on the shoulder.

“Yeah, I see it Dad.”

All three stood for a long moment until she burst out sobbing incoherently burying her head into their shoulders as they both pulled her in.

“I-I-I changed my-my mind. I-I-I don’t wan-wanna go!” she sobbed.

“Ellie Bean, it’s th’ only way. Ya can’t stay in Brantix County yer whole life.” Drew pleaded with her.

“Ya got a full ride to MIT, ya gotta at least take a shot, sweet girl.” Dad’s eyes were red rimmed now, he cupped her face with both hands, “Yer mother would be so proud of ya.”

She bobbed her head again.

“Now go on. Solve yer equations.”

 

_Time can sometimes be solved for. She was always the unexpected answer to her own equation…_

She strode through the campus book store, after text books and supplies, she had some spending money left. During her perusal of the wall posters – some of real art, most of movies or scantily clad men and women – she found it. It was a 18x24 poster in the 99-cent bin and it captured her immediately.

Rene Magritte’s _The Unexpected Answer_ was despised by her roommate, Ramona so she ended up putting it unobtrusively over the head of her bed – the bottom bunk so the woman she shared her living space with would be hard pressed to see it in the shadows. Ellie would sit at the foot of the bed while working on her homework and occasionally look up at it; finding herself smiling.

When she first figured it out, there in the bookstore, she had laughed and nodded.

_Yes!_

It was the indeed, the unexpected answer. It seemed to cheer her up every time she saw it, in an odd sort of way.

Years later though, after being diagnosed with epilepsy, she rolled it up and refused to look at it ever again.

 

_Time sped by. Her mind was a whirlwind. She wasn’t really herself. She wasn’t anyone or anything, really. Until her vision coalesced again._

 

It was the day after her 24th birthday.

She smiled tightly.

Elinor was standing in the hall, outside the auditorium. Her hair was cropped in a feminine pixie and she wore the blue suit and white silk blouse confidently.

_People._

Many of them she didn’t know; some of them she did, shook her hand and congratulated her. There were commendations on her methodology, remarks on her ingenious approach and passion for her research. And of course, everyone wanted to know; once the committee signed on the dotted line – where to next?

Post-doctoral research? Private sector?

The sky was the limit for someone so young and talented.

She could even pursue another degree if she wanted to; the thought had occurred to her, but she was interested in academic life and so post-doc work was calling her.

More research because theory was nice, but application was art come alive.

It was Sven that called her in. Sven Grissom her doctoral advisor, through his own admission, hadn’t done much for Ellie. He left her to her own devises, and she came through marvelously; only guiding her on her terrible nervousness during committee presentations – which had been resolved since her Candidacy.

She swore by Diet Coke, only.

“Congratulations, Dr. Elinor Elizabeth Savona, this committee has awarded you a Doctorate of Philosophy in Mechanical Engineering from the Massachusetts Institute of Technology.”

 

_Time sped up faster and faster. But it hadn’t really past…._

 

She sat staring out the living room window; waiting.

“Ellie?”

Her head whipped around, “Dad, you should be laying down! You know what the doctor said.”

“Aw, ta hell wit th’ doctor. He dunn’t know shit.”

“Dad!”

“Listen, Elinor. Ya got ta promise me somethin’.”

“I’ll promise you anything if you just lay back down you, stubborn old goat!” she pursed her lips

He chortled but coughed slightly, “Tha’s my girl.”

She got him situated back in bed, covered up with the quilt Mom had made during their first year of marriage and smiled down at him, “Now do you want Ellie to read you a bed time story?”

He snorted, “Ya know, I agree wit yer brother, yer a pain in th’ ass sometimes.”

She grinned, “Sometimes?”

He eyed her, “Yeah, yeah. Welp, ya gunna promise me somethin’.”

“Alright.”

“Don’t ever be afraid a yerself, Elinor.” He said somberly.

Her forehead creased in confusion, “Ok?”

“I know ya see things that other people just dunn’t see, Ellie.”

She shivered, her eyes dropping down to her lap. She recovered with a slight smile, “Not anymore Dad, the medicine takes care of that!”

“Nah, it’ll come back when it’s needed.” He smiled knowingly as he gazed out the window next to the bed.

A shot of fear coursed through her veins, “How do you know?”

“These things always have a way a comin’ back ‘round. Don’t ya worry Ellie Bean.” He patted her hand, “When they do come back ya use ‘em fer the best. It’s a gift Elinor. Help th’ people ya love. Help th’ people tha’ need th’ helpin’. Yer a pure heart, ya always been. Don’t be afraid.”

She scowled to hide the emotion from showing on her features; afraid it would betray her and upset her already weakened father.

She bobbed her head, and smiled, “Ok, Dad.”

“Alright, Ellie Bean. Think I’m gunna go ta sleep. Ya wake me when it’s time fer me to milk th’ cows, alright?”

She grinned, “Don’t worry, I’ll save Maybelle for you!”

He laughed, “That ol’ barrel, thanks! Good night Ellie.”

“Night Dad.”

In the morning he was gone.

 

_Not much time had pasted – oh but it had – hadn’t it?_

 

Her job at TES; contract after contract. Calculations piling high on her desk. She would run through her park and feel the wind on her face.

She’d take a deep breath; read another book.

Another calculation.

She turned twenty-eight and Benjamin Finkleton wanted to have a party. She hated parties, they reminded her too much of her prom – music, dancing, cake…alcohol. Elinor absently pushed her glasses up onto the bridge of her nose as she finished up the disposition of a 1.5% plastic strain limit for irradiated material handling.

No, she would go home.

It was dark and a thunderstorm brewed on the horizon as she walked toward the train. She caught the faint smell of cigarette smoke as she strode briskly toward the station. She heard the voices from several blocks away.

Why she stopped to listen, she didn’t have a clue, but she did.

“-swear I don’t, man.” A man’s voice was pleading, “I swear, that’s all I have.”

There was another voice, muffled but loud.

She regretted her choice of footwear; heels clicking on the pavement conspicuously as she rounded a corner looking furtively down an alleyway. Two men dressed in black were standing over a man hunched over a shopping cart.

“All ya got is some coins – no bills!?” one of the men screamed at the man with the shopping cart.

“I swear I don’t! Please!”

It was clear to Ellie the man with the cart was homeless by his beleaguered appearance; everything he owned was wheeled around in a plastic vessel from Whole Foods which generally served, not as a home for worldly goods, but as temporary storage for disposables from a grocery store. One of the men glanced her way but she quickly backed into the shadows.

“Ya know, I’m just gunna let you off this time; I’m gunna take away yer sleeping bag.” The second man, the bigger of the two reached down to snatch up the wadded-up thing as the homeless man begged.

“No no! It gets awfully cold, please sir. I promise ya. I-I’ll do more beggin’.”

“We don’t want you to beg you fucking idiot! We want you to nab a couple rich ladies. Steel some wallets!”

“I-I-I can’t!” the man stammered, “since ‘Nam…” he broke down and wept openly.

“Shut up, old man. Just bring some money tomorrow night – same time. Or we’ll take more than yer fucking sleeping bag.”

They turned and left, Ellie clung tightly to the darkness, watching them leave as the sky opened up and it started to pour. Hastily she dug into her messenger bag and grabbed an umbrella but before she opened it, she ran to the homeless man who sat curled up between the wall and his cart.

“Are you all right?”

“Wha?” he looked at her in utter bewilderment.

“Are you all right?” she held the umbrella over him as he looked up at her blinking.

“Wha you want, lady?”

_What are you doing, Elinor?_

“To help you.” she answered honestly.

“Ain’t nobody help anybody in this life.”

“I don’t believe that!” She called over a clap of thunder.

But she told herself every day that there was no one out there. No one cared. People were fundamentally flawed and were not worth the effort to get to know.

Why the sudden change of heart?

_Just because they hurt you, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t help them, Elinor._

“What can I do to help you?”

“Leave me alone.”

 

The next morning Mike woke up, aching and sore – old wounds from a long-ago injury – remembrance of a terrible time; a flash of light, a loud noise and nothing but jungle around him. Since he got back from Vietnam in ’73 nothing was ever the same, so he had eventually ended up on the street. He unfurled himself from his curled position; his feet hitting the new sleeping bag she placed at his feet. She was careful to put the money discreetly in his cart so he’d find it easily, but it wouldn’t be obvious to anyone else.

The next evening, she made sure to have her phone at the ready and a can of Mace too – per Drew’s insistence since she took the train at all hours of the day and night depending on how absent-minded she happened to be with her work schedule.

Elinor cringed at the idea of carrying the stuff around – she knew what it felt like to have burning eyes and she sincerely hoped the ruffians harassing the homeless man would simply leave. She changed into her running shoes before she left the office – just in case – and made her way toward the alleyway.

Just as threatened, they were there.

“Ya did good, ol’ man. Well, better at least,” the larger of the two said.

“Where’d ya get this from?” the second asked.

“I-I found it.”

“Yeah sure ya did.” The larger man laughed and grabbed the man by the front of his tattered shirt, “What happened, really?”

“I-I-I really did find it.” The homeless man insisted.

“And you expect us to believe that? Ya stupid fuckin’ idiot!”

The second reared back forming a fist; ready to swing at the defenseless old man, cringing against his shopping cart.

“STOP!”

The sound of her own voice frightened her more than the men that turned to gawk at her.

The homeless man flailed helplessly, “No, lady. Go away, lady!”

“Well, well, what we got here?”

“Someone who knows how to send her location to the local precinct via cell phone, asshole.” The bravery starting to creep into her slowly. Her voice only shook a little.

“Ya know, the average response time is 8 minutes, doll face.” The second one chortled.

“Have it your way!” she screamed, feeling a burst of savagery as the larger of the two attackers started toward her.

The big one was the first to fall to the pepper spray. Ellie winced as the man screamed in agony; writhing on the ground clawing at his eyes and the skin near his neck. He tried to reach her; attempted to grab her ankle to hold her while the second advanced but she kicked him in the groin and sprayed the other man, missing his face but getting enough on his clothing to make him cough and gag.

“RUN!” she called to the man huddled at the end of the alleyway.

He hurriedly pushed his cart away from the fray and limped down the street his silhouette framed in the light of advancing police cars.

 

They took her statement and escorted Beavis and Butthead, as one officer referred to them, to their own separate police vehicles.

Apparently both Beavis _and_ Butthead were wanted felons – extortion, armed robbery and possession of stolen goods were, after all, significant talking-points to be placed on a criminal’s resume. And they would of course, add assault.

She would testify to the conditions under which she met both Beavis and Butthead; but the point was moot.

Both cartoons pleaded guilty.

The homeless man, Mike, did not come out of hiding for a week. When he did it was slowly, cautiously; like a petrified animal. Elinor would see him almost every morning on her way into the TES offices. Their social interaction started as a nod and a smile but after a while Mike became less skittish.

He even told her in passing about some of his time overseas. She reminded him of his own little girl – not a little girl anymore – Arabella was Ellie’s age.

Over several months of stray conversations, she convinced him to make contact.

There was no one happier to see Mike than his Arabella. He still struggled and would stay on the street out of preference, but he wasn’t nearly as ashamed knowing his daughter didn’t think any less of him for his struggles.

Elinor smiled.

 

Time can be fluid, but a fluid can be a liquid – moving stealthily along however, restricted to a confined space _or_ it can be a vapor, vast and expansive never truly confined.

Her time on the Chimaera was fluid. Her time with Thrawn was the sweetness of being unconstrained but the bitterness of being brought to an unfulfilled close. She knew without a doubt that she loved him; was _in love_ with him.

The night before she left, he had made love to her. He spoke softly in her ear, all the while sending wave after wave of pleasure crashing into her body; her mind and soul shattered with love and the terrible wrenching sadness of what the next day would bring.

Thrawn’s voice, always hypnotic was strained with emotion as he murmured words or phrases, she knew nothing of. He wasn’t speaking in any language she understood – it was completely foreign, yet the meaning was clear.

He was professing his _love_ for her, in the only way he knew how. In the language he knew best. She was sure of it. He was in love with her just as much as she was in love with him.

And then he left.

 

“Elinor. Look at me. Elinor?”

The voice was painfully familiar.

She didn’t want to hear it; didn’t want to feel the hurt it caused her. Elinor was already hurting. The stormtrooper was going to kill her before she could see her daughter be born. She would never get to hold her child. She would never get to see Thrawn again.

_Thrawn._

That voice.

Her eyelids fluttered.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello,
> 
> After the next two chapters the story begins a new phase - the trust issues go away and the action starts to pick up a bit. These last few chapters (along with the next one or two) have laid the ground work for what's coming...
> 
> Hopefully we get out of this with only a few deaths (NOT!)...I'm just kidding...or am I???


	50. Present

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning:  
> None
> 
> In This Chapter:  
> Just a body  
> Pyrondi's assignment  
> Scars  
> Harding's gift changes his mind about Elinor  
> Naïve  
> Yermentic's second favorite topic  
> Dizon is working on jamming, projection, a CT, and some trust issues  
> Father and daughter  
> Klary is a piece of work; Whittland is a double agent.  
> He forgot to tell her...  
> Drew finds out it's Thrawn's turf  
> What are the Grand Admiral's intentions?  
> The poem  
> Bedside confession

 

Tabitha Yermentic pursed her lips as she jiggled the baby girl soothingly. She felt awkward intruding on the Grand Admiral’s moments with Elinor; opting to leave while he sat by her side. It was not just for Thrawn’s privacy that she stole away but for her own dignity; she found the scene absolutely heartbreaking.

The Chiss Grand Admiral would come in at least ten times a day to check on her progress; cupping one of her hands in both of his, raising it gingerly to his lips to kiss her wrist. They had tried everything to raise her from her coma.

They laid Athena on her chest, hoping the feel of her child would rouse her but to no avail. Thrawn even allowed Ezra Bridger to try some Jedi nonsense, but that didn’t work either.

She had been in a vegetative-like state for three days.

Heart function normal, lung function normal, kidney function normal, brain waves bouncing around like a womp rat on spice, but it was as if Elinor Savona no longer existed.

In her place was a body.

The child was finally nodding off to sleep. Since her mother had collapsed into unconsciousness, Athena had been different too. Her sleep was restless, and she would wake up screaming, flailing her arms and legs madly.

There was nothing medically wrong with Elinor. She was completely healthy and normal – as far as the doctor could tell, the woman just didn’t want to wake up.

 

She had thought carefully about how to approach her current “assignment.” The Grand Admiral was on the verge of desperation and willing to consider external options, but she had left Andrew Savona under dubious circumstances.

When she arrived, he had just gotten in from the field; pulling up the tractor as she pulled up her vehicle in the driveway. Crissa couldn’t look at the tractor without feeling a pang of guilt. Drew had given her a tour of the farm during the Imperial’s initial visit and she had asked to climb up and take a look.

He had bobbed his head; giving her a coy smile. Pyrondi didn’t have a problem climbing up into the seat. He explained from the ground how to start the machine, put it in drive, how often it needed servicing, and what it was used for.

When she was done with her exploration, she carefully slid down; he stood ready to help her and although she didn’t really need it, she let him. Crissa Pyrondi also let him kiss her for the first time.

Hence began a very cautious relationship in which the Imperial Lieutenant Commander make surveillance trips out while she was “off duty” – a _commitment_ to duty, if anyone were to ask. If she happened to be caught “in the act” Crissa reasoned she could get away with the excuse of wanting to make sure Andrew Savona was safe – Imperial asset protection was _very_ important, after all.

And now she was here to tell him Elinor was -what? On her death bed?

_No, don’t tell him._

He strode over to her, taking his thick gloves off, and smirked at her.

“Howdy Ms. Pyrondi.”

She couldn’t help but smile tightly, “It’s Lieutenant Commander, today.”

His eyebrows quirked upward, and he grinned, “Welp, alright then.”

He hefted her up and headed toward the house as she giggled, “No wait, Drew! Wait!”

“Nah, nah yer not goin’ anywhere. I got fresh frozen pizza just fer ya! Nothin’s too good fer my girl!” he laughed.

“Wait! Wait! I have something I need to talk to you about! Drew stop!” she pleaded.

He put her down and looked at her half seriously, “Wha’ is it Lieutenant Commander?”

She inhaled deeply, “It’s about Elinor.”

 

He never thought about the size of his own hands until he held Athena for the first time. His daughter was small and fragile; delicately she wrapped her tiny hand around one of his fingers and his heart rejoiced. Now, the woman who gave him the miracle that was his child lay before him; not alive but not dead either.

In a state of flux.

Occasionally her brow would wrinkle ever-so-slightly as if the dream she was having were thought provoking or extremely vexing but otherwise she was as still as stone. He moved his hands to hers, studying the lines and slight scaring on each one of them. A life of hard work played out in her pale skin. He compared them to his own – also scarred from various injuries, but his were larger and blue, long and far less delicate than hers.

He bent down to kiss her pale wrists, inhaling deeply to capture the familiar scent of her. The Grand Admiral closed his eyes against the onslaught of emotion threatening to overwhelm him.

 

George Harding was wounded for certain – the headache and muscle aches from his mental duel with Elinor Savona were unlike anything he’d ever experienced. He had refused Klary’s commands to return to the Chimaera, choosing to remain instead on the planet in Uptown. He could recover in relative comfort and concealment in his condo in the Vogue on 3rd Street, whereas on the Chimaera he’d be discovered.

He certainly didn’t need the Commander finding out what he’d been doing.

Harding was taken aback over the lack of feeling from across the void. He’d searched; lightly reaching out to find her distinctive ripple in the plain of existence they all seemed to float upon. It was nowhere to be found. Either she had suddenly become very good at hiding or…

_She is dead._

The thought was depressing to Harding who was truly looking forward to his new life with Elinor and her daughter. It wouldn’t be _too_ terrible if she had come to some untimely end, he reminded himself. He could still use the child, it would just be much more tedious.

Once he felt whole again, able to focus his gift and see the ripples around himself he reached out again. Still nothing from Elinor, but the child…the child was there. Strong and willful just like her mother.

He chuckled to himself.

Athena’s ripple was steady, leading Harding to believe Elinor might still be alive. He focused in on that strong power – suddenly it whipped around and flew inward upon itself – disappearing from his gift’s sight. He felt his consciousness jerk back in surprise.

_Fascinating._

He was looking forward to meeting her, but he would have to move cautiously.

His gift moved his mind’s eye to a concept, and he focused on it – seeing her; seeing her mother. Understanding dawned on him and he smiled, thankful for the insight.

Elinor was alive and deep in the recesses of his mind he knew if he kept attacking as he did, she would become increasingly stronger. It would be a shame – he’d eventually have to kill her due to her own stubbornness. An idiotic waste, unless…

By her daughter’s powerful reaction, Athena’s bond with Elinor was strong and she would model herself after her mother – likely picking up her emotional responses, using them as a baseline input into the development of her own identity. If Harding could manipulate Elinor, he would by default mold her daughter.

He didn’t need to capture the child or take the alien Grand Admiral prisoner – he would speak with the person he required directly and convey to her what he needed. He would go through Elinor.

If he didn’t get what he needed from her, Harding would dispose of her.

His gift called again.

_No?_

_No._

Harding chuckled again. If only he had been a little less forward that day in his office, a year ago.

 

Even before stealing away on the Strikefast, Thrawn understood he would face a significant amount of prejudice in the Empire based solely on his appearance. It was his eyes that gave him away. Pantorans were similar to Chiss in appearance but with one very large _glowing_ exception.

The species did not have red eyes as Chiss did and so for much of Thrawn’s tenure in Imperial space, many assumed he was Pantoran with some form of degenerative ocular condition.

This was amusing for the first several years of his residence. After so long of being questioned over his breed and pedigree he found it tedious. Would someone randomly walk up to a human to inquire if they had any Gamorrean ancestors? Still, it did not irritate him.

They were merely curious.

What did annoy the Grand Admiral, however, was the underlying bigotry within the ranks of the Imperial Navy and the Empire in general. Eli had claimed it was a residual artifact left from the Clone Wars, but Thrawn suspected there were deeper wounds spanning hundreds if not thousands of years in the past. The art seemed to indicate such.

Thrass had warned him or tried to.

He wouldn’t listen.

He never listened.

The Chiss Ascendancy would destroy itself from within and pure evil would seek its destruction from beyond its boarder. He would either align the Empire as a healthy tool to aid in the coming fight or he would destroy it from within thus eliminating one more enemy. His brother had scoffed at the brazenness.

_“All by yourself?”_

_“Yes.”_

Thrass had tried to warn him.

He wouldn’t listen.

He never listened…

He had tried to warn Thrawn about the pitfalls of politics, traps bureaucrats laid and all the things his younger brother should _not_ do if he were to survive in an alien socio-political system. But he wouldn’t listen.

He never listened.

Thrawn truly believed that skill and ability would win out; that once his talents were realized his unintentional political foibles, whatever they may be, would be overlooked.

Alas, in the Empire that was not the case. It was probably the same in the Ascendency as well, but Thrawn had his brother to clear his way for him in the political arena.

He smiled vaguely.

When the Jedi Ezra Bridger singled out Elinor as someone likely to help repair the Chimaera, the Grand Admiral read the dossier of information the Imperials were able to mine on the woman. The ISB had developed a general template for humanoid personalities based on certain likes/dislikes and past experiences.

The ISB label for Elinor had been _naïve_.

Thrawn found this to be somewhat amusing in that he had put several of his own parameters into the template out of curiosity and had gotten the exact same character trait at one point. His review of her file convinced him she was anything but ignorant of the world around her.

On the contrary, Elinor was painfully aware of how brutal life could be and the Chiss thought back to his time with his brother.

_“All by yourself?”_

_“Yes.”_

He never listened…

 

The man came charging into “sick bay” looking like he would murder anyone who stood in his way. It was obvious to Yermentic he worked outside for his living; his skin was tanned, and his wavy brown hair was slightly bleached red from long hours under the sky. His lanky frame, long arms and legs reminded her of a baby Ho’Din and the doctor almost snorted a laugh at a long forgotten memory.

She held in her mirth; based on the shape of his nose, mouth and cheek bones, coupled with the color of his eyes she’d bet her last credit the man was Andrew Savona – Elinor’s brother.

“Wha’ ya done wit my sister?” he’s head whipped from side to side.

Crissa Pyrondi ran into the bay breathlessly, “Drew! You have to be careful. We could have shot you! I wanted you to see the Grand Admiral first.”

“Ta hell wit tha’ blue bastard – where’s Ellie?”

The man spotted Tabitha watching with finely focused attention. She was avidly consuming the scene, enthralled over the apparent closeness between the Lieutenant Commander and Elinor’s brother (body language suggested their relationship involved more than just her driving him to see his sister) and him calling her superior officer a blue bastard. These were rare occurrences that the doctor was just not going to miss.

“Hey, yer th’ doctor?” he asked scowling at her.

“Yes, sir.” She smiled at him and then flicked her eyes over to Crissa.

_Yes, I see you and I know what you’ve done._

Pyrondi lowered her eyes in obvious embarrassment.

“I wanna see my sister.” Andrew Savona demanded.

“Of course, sir. She’s over here.” Tabitha lead him to the back – the part of the cargo bay they had fashioned into an infirmary – where Elinor lay in her bed. Yates had gone off into the woods and picked some wild flowers; they were in a small beaker next to the bed.

Upon seeing her the man stopped, “Ha-has she said anythin’ done anythin’?”

Tabitha breathed in preparing to deliver news that would likely be disturbing, “her forehead wrinkles occasionally – like she’s thinking – but that’s it.”

To her mild surprise, the farmer laughed, “Tha’ just means she’s sleepin’. She did tha’ all the time when she was a kid. She’d look like she’d be solvin’ the world’s problems in ‘er sleep.”

Yermentic tried to smile but it came out looking broken, she knew. “Go on in and say hello, the Lieutenant Commander and I will be out here when you’re done. Take all the time you need.”

The man bobbed his head absently as the doctor turned to go back to the larger less private portion of the sick bay where she found Crissa pacing. She wanted the other woman to know she wouldn’t be spilling the Bantha poo on her, so she grinned.

“Ah, Crissa we need to talk about my _second_ favorite topic!”

The Lieutenant Commander stopped and looked horrified clearly ready to sputter out an explanation, Yermentic held up her hand; shook her head patently.

“Birth control!” the doctor beamed.

If the younger woman could have whizzed around the room from sudden depressurization she would have. Tabitha tried to regain control of herself, cognizant that if she laughed too much harder, she’d have incontinence issues.

“Just out of curiosity, what’s your _favorite_ topic?” Pyrondi smiled in relief.

Yermentic grinned evilly, “Are you having fun?”

 

Dizon, Tobevoh, and Ovally spent much of their time working on the projection device. The idea was to use the satellites in orbit. The problem was they also needed to jam all commlink communication with the Chimaera simultaneously and they had been working on said problem for weeks.

Dizon knew it would have been easily addressed if Elinor were involved but the Grand Admiral insisted on keeping her isolated. For what reasons, the stormtrooper couldn’t fathom until the attack. Thrawn had insisted it wasn’t Elinor that had attempted to assault him but a facsimile of her, the evidence of which lay unconscious in the medical bay of the Lambda. Still, he had requested the comatose woman be placed under watch; the Chiss had refused.

He had been near insubordination in his insistence; refusing to leave the Grand Admiral open to what had befallen Gilad Pellaeon. After all, that’s what his current assignment was, really - making sure the Chimaera’s Captain had not died in vain. Once again, Thrawn would have it his way and Dizon was left in a rage.

He went so far as to, in his spare time, work on an old CT10 with the hope of monitoring the situation Dizon would find he didn’t need it to watch Elinor, but a working means of remote surveillance was priceless.

 

He had taken to watching her try to lift herself up after rolling herself over.

Athena had made noises that he guessed were of self-congratulation after finally tipping herself from her side to her belly. He smiled tightly. She would likely find pleasure in physical exercise; perhaps he’d teach her to spar one day.

Thrawn stopped himself with a snort, she could not even walk, and he was already planning her future out. How very typical of his upbringing.

The Grand Admiral heard the approach of the vehicle; knew it was the Lieutenant Commander with Andrew Savona but still, he remained. Undoubtedly, he would want to go immediately to his sister so Thrawn would let the man be. Why complicate things and, given Savona was already openly hostile toward him, he certainly did not wish to incite him further.

 

Commander Klary waved dismissively at the stormtrooper hauling the latest crumpled mess away. She was on the verge of utter frustration and taking it out on a random Ensign or Lieutenant who happened to ask something stupid, was her way of coping.

This latest one had really fired up the turbolasers; Lieutenant Holts had been spreading malicious rumors. He had the audacity to suggest that Klary was unfit and that the Grand Admiral was murdered by her. The Captain was being held against his will and it was the duty of the crew to determine what had happened to the highest-ranking officer in the fleet.

She snorted.

The fleet.

What fleet?

The 7th Fleet was gone, Thrawn was on the run and the Captain’s body was dumped down an incineration shaft.

Meanwhile Lieutenant Holts was brought in for questioning under suspicion to commit mutiny, but Klary was a sensible person. She could be persuaded to see reason. Unfortunately, Holts didn’t amuse her with reason enough to keep him alive.

She had ordered Commander Tela and Engineering to reassemble both of Thrawn’s old sentinel droids – if nothing else they acted as a deterrent for would be assassins. Tela, the hopeless idiot still believed Thrawn was off searching for Elinor Savona and that Klary was here to keep the thrusters warm. The Engineer didn’t know she used the droids to toy with her annoyances; rip the would-be problems apart (literally). Problems like Holts whose pieces were being lugged away by a stormtrooper.

They had searched the Chimaera forward and aft at least twenty times; physical sweeps, scanning, everything short of ripping the Imperial Star Destroyer apart looking for the elusive key code that would unlock the ship. Harding had insisted the Chiss did _not_ know the code but knew _how_ to find out, leading Klary to believe it was a random-access key code. The idiot was also convinced the Grand Admiral had given it to Savona, but the Commander knew Thrawn was a master at deflection.

No, the damn thing was likely given to Lieutenant Commander Pyrondi before her escape and stashed somewhere on the surface.

She sighed.

Klary had to find the key code soon or she’d have to order Tela to build a third sentinel droid. The door chimed indicating an entrance request and she snapped at the comm.

“Yes?”

“We have the native you requested, ma’am,” came the filtered voice of the same trooper - TL-7903.

Ah, perhaps her luck was turning around finally…

“Send him in.”

Agent Doug Whittland was roughly prodded into her office, looking terrified – like he was ready to piss himself – she actually giggled.

“Agent Whittland, thank you for coming.” She smiled warmly.

“Ah, sure.”

_How intelligent._

She sighed again.

“The reason I requested your presence here was because I wanted to ask you a few questions.”

Her _request_ wasn’t so much that, but rather having two troopers in civilian clothes, follow him to his personal vehicle after work, stun him, bind him and drag him to the transport. He was shipped up to the Chimaera with the toiletries and other supplies.

“Ok.”

“I understand you are working for a Mr. George Harding.” She leaned forward as if to convey a sense of closeness.

Whittland swallowed, “Yes, ma’am.”

“What is it you do for him?”

“I just do surveillance ma’am.” The agent’s eyes darted around cautiously taking in his surroundings.

“Ah,” Klary nodded. “And who or what have you been watching recently?”

The man paused.

She cocked her head and lifted her eyebrows, “Mr. Whittland, I can help you or I can make things very, _very,_ uncomfortable for you.”

The agent seemed to consider this as the blood drained from his face, “Yes, ma’am.”

She smiled sweetly, “Now, what have you been doing for Mr. Harding lately?”

Whittland bobbed his head as if trying to come to terms with his fate – he was likely damned no matter what, “I’ve been watching a guy – a farmer. His name’s Andrew Savona.”

Klary felt her face harden, “The purpose being?”

“I’m supposed to be on the lookout for his sister.”

“And have you found her?”

“No but…” the man stopped, his eyes going wide.

She batted her eye lashes and smiled again, “But?”

Whittland sighed, “Harding thinks she’s in the area.”

“Why?”

“One of her Imperial friends – I guess one of yours too – was spotted with her brother in the town nearby.”

The Commander leaned back in her seat, feeling her face flush with anger. Harding was holding out on her – essentially betraying her as he said he would.

“Can you describe the man?”

“I didn’t actually see him – it was through second hand accounts. It was Harding that put it together.”

_Slimy Hutt!_

She noticed the agent was beginning to look a bit green; likely seeing the murder in her eyes over his employer’s treachery. The poor man, Klary didn’t want him to piss all over himself and her floor.

“That’s excellent Mr. Whittland. I appreciate the information.” She soothed.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I’m in the habit of rewarding good information. Whatever Harding pays you for information I will gladly triple it –“

The man gasped.

“-I want you to keep an eye on Andrew Savona and I would like you to inform me when Harding gives you assignments and what they are.”

Whittland smiled for the first time, “Of course, ma’am. Is there anything else you need?”

_Hm. Eager to please, aren’t we?_

She gave him her best coy smile, “Not at this time Agent, thank you. This fine gentlemen in the white suit will escort you out.”

He turned to leave.

“Oh, and Agent Whittland?”

He turned back.

“Speak of this to George Harding, and no one on Earth will ever be able to find what remains of you.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

 

He had played their days together over and over in his mind while he was imprisoned on the Chimaera.

They had sustained him.

He even found himself humming Schubert gently in the night; pretending that the warmth he felt on his skin was her and not the burning left behind from Bastilis’s needles.

Her taste, her scent, her voice, her intelligence, her fierce determination. Everything about her called to everything in him. There were words for the feeling of love, yes. But in Cheunh there was only one word for the soul your own was tied to and it wasn’t used often or lightly.

He would have to teach it to her.

If he survived the ordeal.

And he had...but he hadn’t told her.

 

“Ellie? Hey ya hear me?”

_Nothing_.

He had talked to her for a good hour; about nothing and everything. He reminisced about the time she was frightened of the rooster and the time he got bit in the ass by the sheep.

But _nothing_.

He sighed heavily, “Welp, I’ll be back soon ok, ya don’t run off, now.”

Drew stood and exited the make-shift hospital the Imperials had made in their three-winged space ship and walked purposefully toward the doctor, an older woman with a kindly face. Ellie had mentioned her – said she had helped deliver Athena – so she couldn’t be too bad.

“Howdy, ma’am.”

She smiled broadly, “Hello.”

“Wha’ kin ya tell me ‘bout how Ellie is doin’ n’ how it happened?”

The doctor’s eyes widened slightly, and her mouth formed a little “O”.

“I can tell you she’s not in any pain. There is nothing medically wrong with her, she’s just….” The woman trailed off.

“Lights ‘er on but nobody’s home?” Drew asked.

The woman squinted and then nodded slowly, “Sure. We’ll go with that.”

He grunted.

“How ‘bout how it happened?”

Her ready smile fell abruptly, and she clammed up, “I’ll have to direct you to the Grand Admiral for that.”

Drew felt his eyes narrow, “The Grand Admiral huh? Tha’ blue bastard ‘round here somewhere o’ did ‘e run off again?”

The doctor looked suddenly upset, her eyes darkening and her mouth opening, likely preparing to give him an ass-chewing but something stopped her. She nodded coldly and pointed to her right,

“If you take the hatch, he’s likely near the cockpit with _his daughter_.” She said pointedly.

A not-so-subtle jab at Drew; her reminder to him that this was Thrawn’s turf.

He pursed his lips and bent his head slightly in mild defeat, “Alright. Thanks fer eveythin’ yer doin’ fer Ellie.”

“Of course, she’s family.”

 

The Lieutenant Commander requested entrance, he allowed it. She swept up Athena and the baby made delighted sounds upon finding Crissa Pyrondi’s light blonde hair; something for her to tug on. The Grand Admiral prepared himself for what would likely be a very unpleasant confrontation.

He heard the man’s approach, guided by Major Cran, as he stood staring out at the trees through the cockpit.

“Thank you Major, that will be all.” He called.

“Sir?”

The Major recognized the man’s intentions and was sincerely hoping the Chiss would allow him to stay and at least monitor the situation.

“We are quite well here.” Thrawn turned; nodding to the man reassuringly.

Thae Cran looked pained but the Grand Admiral gave him a slight smile.

“Yes, sir.”

“Tha’ how ya order everyone ‘round?” Savona growled lowly.

Thrawn’s eyes flicked over to him as he inhaled calmly.

“You wish to understand how Elinor entered her current state.”

“Yeah, ta start wit.” He snarled.

Thrawn clasped his hands formally behind his back and began his explanation as he understood it. Parts of it he referred to Ezra Bridger’s knowledge, parts he identified as purely conjecture but when he was done Andrew Savona did not seem convinced.

“Yer sayin’ some sadistic asshole managed ta get inside ‘er head ‘an plant feelin’s in it?”

“Basically, yes.”

“So he could find ya and take yer ship?”

“Yes.”

The farmer rubbed his stubbled chin and moved his jaw thoughtfully, “Tha’s horseshit. Ya know why it’s horseshit?”

He paused obviously waiting for Thrawn to ask him to continue his philosophical ramblings on the identification of animal excrement. The Chiss didn’t so much as blink.

Savona, didn’t wait too long before continuing, likely recognizing the Grand Admiral wasn’t going to bite, “ ‘Cause yer too much of a chicken shit ta tell ‘er ‘an ya let doubt creep in.”

“Tell her, what exactly?” Thrawn’s eyes narrowed – he was not familiar with the term “chicken shit” but from context he could render an educated guess.

“Ya know what jackass! Ya lost ‘er ‘an now she’s had some massive seizure ‘an ya people ‘er prolly just keepin’ ‘er sedated so YOU don’t have ta deal wit the truth.”

Thrawn’s eyes flashed, “I do not think you understand the –“

“I understand tha you love ‘er and you never once tol’ ‘er wha’ yer intentions were.” He screamed fiercely.

The Chiss jerked as if the man had slapped him. It was so surprising even Andrew Savona stopped and looked at the dazed alien standing across from him. There was an unsteady pause as Thrawn gazed into nothingness, deep in thought.

He never really had.

“Ya didn’t know she was worried ‘bout it? Worried ‘bout ya leavin’ again; takin’ Athena away?” Savona looked at him dubiously.

Thrawn’s brow furrowed in confusion, “Why would she think such a thing?”

“ ‘Cause ya didn’t give ‘er a reason not ta.” He shook his head sadly.

“Don’t ya know tha she hides – it’s her defense against th’ world. She’d even try ta hide ‘er feelin’s if they hurt ‘er too bad. She’d run away if she could.”

“She can no longer run.”

Savona nodded, “I know tha’. If ya tryin’ to stop ‘er from runnin’ it’d help if she’d have one less thing ta run from.”

 

The last night she was on the Chimaera, he remembered her.

The way her body moved against his. His soul sang with hers and he knew he could never leave her.

Yes, the physical part of him would leave; go back to the Empire – back to war and death and whatever fate had in store. But his true essence would remain with her, always.

He murmured an old poem; something he read in his younger years that he had, at that time, found hopelessly dull and idealistic.

In Cheunh it was flowing; it lost something in its translation to Basic.

_Stars, why shine?_

_There is no light without you by my side_

_Without my Beloved beside me_

_There is only darkness without you_

He had told her all the things he wanted to tell her – he spoke the words. But he realized bitterly, in the end, the feared Imperial Grand Admiral was just a coward like everyone else when it came to such matters.

He never said them so she could _understand_ them.

Never explained the poem; never explained the significance of “Beloved” in his native language - never really told her anything.

 

Grand Admiral Thrawn entered the sick bay the doctor had created to accommodate the small group, scanning the area in his usual efficient manner. His glowing eyes resting, then on the back area of the infirmary where she still lay in her state of obliviousness.

He slowly stepped toward the curtained area; Dr Yermentic gently intercepted him to inform him there had been no change in her condition.

He acknowledged the news, painfully, “Thank you, Doctor.”

“Can I assist in anyway sir?” she asked looking thoroughly wretched.

Thrawn paused, he usually did not request privacy during his visits with Elinor but Yermentic seemed to understand his appeal for solitude. He would need it, especially now.

“Leave us, please.”

If she was surprised by the request, she gave no indication of it, “Of course, sir.”

The Chiss stood for a long moment in consideration. How strange it was to have such strong emotions.

Members of his species, in general tended to be apathetic compared to the average human. Many beings he noticed were outwardly passionate and he found himself wondering if the Chiss lacked certain biological markers, rendering their limbic system less volatile.

Thrawn had concluded through years of observation and his study of art that one species wasn’t necessarily more emotional than another. How they expressed those emotions and what provoked the response was simply different. The feelings themselves were the same from being to being.

He walked slowly toward the tiny “room.” Her small hands were at her sides as her chest slowly rose and fell with her steady breathing. Elinor’s face was smoothed in restful sleep; her brow no longer pinched in concentration.

The Grand Admiral sat in the chair next to her bed and as always, cupped her right hand in his and brought it up to his lips; kissing her wrist.

He decided to begin in Cheunh,

_“Elinor? Can you hear me?”_

_“Do you know that I love you?”_

He paused and repeated what he had said in Basic; looking up at her face hopefully.

_“Do you know I am lost without you?”_

_“Do you know that I love you?”_

Again, he paused, then repeated his words in Basic.

_“Do you know our daughter cries for you?”_

_“Do you know that I love you?”_

Repeating in Basic his voice shook, and his brow furrowed with emotion. He gave up completely trying to ground out the next few words in his native tongue; they were too painful.

“How could you not know? I love you.”

He pressed her hand to his lips again. Just as they were about to leave her warmth, he felt one of her fingers move. His eyes snapped open and flicked to her face. Her brow was creased, and her lips parted; moving slightly. He leaned in to listen to the threadbare fabric of her voice

The whisper was barely perceptible even for his hearing, “Thrawn. I’m sorry.”

“Elinor. Look at me. Elinor?”

Her eyelids fluttered.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi,
> 
> Sometimes I still think this was a bad idea. I'm forever in fear of plot holes, spelling errors, typos, etc.  
> In fact in going back looking for plot holes I've noticed several spelling errors and typos!  
> Why doesn't someone tell me these things!!! UGH!


	51. Future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning:  
> Fluff and silliness, perhaps?
> 
> In this Chapter:  
> A family unit  
> What he should have said  
> Elinor needs something better  
> Return of the entourage (Ellie doesn't have time to explain!)  
> Don't probe too hard, Ezra.  
> Show and tell.  
> Engineers talking shop  
> He's her choice.

 

Before the doctor released her from the tiny space that was the Imperial’s hospital, Drew came to see her. Shock written on her face; she nearly dropped the glass of water she held.

“Andrew!” she squeaked, “What are you doing here!?”

He snorted, “A certain Lieutenant Commander thought ya would wake up if yer brother was ‘round to pick on ya.”

She squinted at him and looked around conspiratorially, “Does Thrawn know?”

“Yeah, yeah, th’ blue bastard knows.” He smirked.

“Andrew!” she scolded as he continued to look smug.

“Aw c’mon Ellie, we had a nice lil’ talk while ya were off in dream land. Didja know he kin kick th’ shit outta a robot?”

“Andrew.” She covered her face with her hands and shook her head, “Why?”

“Why, wha?”

“Why did you have to try to fight him?” she wailed.

“Huh? Oh nah, I didn’t.” he shook his head and waved the comment away absently

She dropped her hands looking confused but hopeful that her brother wasn’t currently suffering the after effects of a concussion from going head-to-head with the Chiss.

“I just ast if he ever got ‘is ass kicked an’ th’ conversation moved on from there.”

Her face must have twisted into shocked understanding and acceptance because Drew grinned and began to chortle. She snorted and they both burst into fits of laughter just as Crissa brought Athena in.

Upon hearing her mother’s voice, the baby squirmed and razzed excitedly; smiling and gurgling as Pyrondi placed her in Elinor’s arms.

Drew grinned and casually put his arm around Crissa who beamed watching mother and child be reunited. Of course, the family unit wasn’t quite complete until the Grand Admiral strode in just a heartbeat later prompting Pyrondi to step hastily away from the man standing next to her. It would have been comical had it not been for Crissa’s horrified face.

Thrawn on the other hand, waved it away, “At ease Commander.”

Drew snorted and moved back to Pyrondi’s side; she still tried to shoo him away, but he playfully pulled at her.

Elinor smiled up at him.

“Elinor, a moment if you would?”

The Lieutenant Commander elbowed Andrew Savona in the side and offered to take Athena from Elinor who reluctantly acquiesced hold of her. The child wiggled and fussed and the two exited the make-shift room quickly to avoid a prolonged good-bye between mother and daughter. She stared after them for a moment and then met his gaze.

“I’m sorry.”

He brushed her hair back away from her face, “There is no need to apologize. You did not harm me.”

Her brow furrowed and she looked down at her hands; the hands he held for days hoping that he’d be able to speak with her again.

“I tried to attack you.” She said – it was a statement.

“No. I believe, as does Jedi Bridger that you were attacking someone else. You had no knowledge of your physical body at the time.”

She fidgeted with the blanket covering her legs and bit her lip nervously, “He-he had…” she stopped and inhaled sharply then continued, “He broke down things. Barriers I made. He made me doubt things that I thought were true and he pushed the walls away so I couldn’t hide anymore.”

He nodded solemnly, “Harding.”

She bobbed her head in acknowledgement, “He said he wanted something…but it wasn’t what he _really_ wanted.”

Her eyes met his; wide and pleading, “He wants Athena, Thrawn.” She whispered.

His jaw tightened as she continued.

“He wants me, but he really wants Athena’s abilities – something about plotting the way.” She shook her head tearfully.

He gasped audibly.

“What?” she looked at him, shocked at his reaction.

_Third Sight._

He schooled his features; she needed to know.

And so, he told her.

Everything.

 

They talked at length. About the Chimaera, about the plan to take back the ship. They sat side by side as they once had and spoke of art and science; history and philosophy. They marveled together at their daughter – her beauty and character; her personality was beginning to show. She would be strong willed; stubborn. They joked that the trait could never have possibly come from either of them and was likely due to a recessive gene.

He held her hand and kissed her wrist; reciting the poem in Cheunh.

_Stars, why shine?_

_There is no light without you by my side_

_Without my Beloved beside me_

_There is only darkness without you_

But this time he translated it, holding her as he did; telling her what he should have told her so many months ago that night on the Chimaera.

 

Elinor wiggled out from under the console; glaring at the twisted piece of metal in her hand. Throwing it down the ramp she huffed in frustration and made her way to the refrigeration unit. She was in sore need of a Diet Coke.

She had helped Dizon with the make-shift ground station and had completed the conversion from holovid to video feed after coding through the night. The unsettling part of the whole experience was that the stormtrooper Captain no longer seemed to trust her. Every move she made he would twitch; his hand moving reflexively to his side where his blaster was.

Ellie understood, she didn’t really trust herself much anymore either. After Harding had spent time inside her mind, she’d thought long and hard before letting Thrawn read her in on everything that was going on. Ezra had weighed in on the matter too.

“You’re stronger. Don’t you feel it?” the Jedi had asked her after Yermentic kicked her out of sick bay.

She had to stop and focus on the feeling of _being_.

Yes, she was stronger, but was she _strong_ enough?

Elinor had tentatively reached out to feel around her, like someone flung into a darkened room would feel for a wall as a point of reference.

There was nothing.

Maybe Harding had given up? Maybe the last blast of energy she flung at him had left him in a coma, as it had her?

Either way, the experience left her wondering how easy it would be for someone to penetrate her mind and steal the secrets she was discovering with the work Thrawn was giving her. Dizon obviously didn’t like her being in the loop and he really didn’t like her proximity to the Grand Admiral.

“Ma’am.” Tobevoh acknowledged, “Any luck with that coupling?”

She shook her head morosely, “No.”

Pyrondi had joined her and Tobevoh and the three ate; conspiring to throw the whole shuttle into the scrap heap once they took back the Chimaera. Once it was decided the Lambda would indeed be retired, ideas on how best to destroy it were proposed – sending it into the sun and firing up the Star Destroyer’s turbolasers were on the table when suddenly Tobevoh coughed and sputtered.

“Taking pleasure in conspiracy to destroy Imperial property sets a poor example for our daughter,” the suave voice of the Grand Admiral said from behind her.

Pyrondi and Tobevoh quickly finished their meal, the later shoving his entire sandwich in his mouth and practically running down the ramp.

“Yes, but she didn’t have to deal with that silly coupling all morning!” Elinor smirked looking up at him as he stood over her.

An amused smile tugged at his lips, “What do you propose, Dr. Savona?”

“I need something stronger than Ace Hardware nonsense.” She grumbled, “It would be nice to get some sort of Zircoooooh.”

She stopped, her eyes brightening.

Thrawn’s eyes narrowed in concern, “Elinor?”

She grinned and looked up at him again, “I know someone who can help us!”

 

Despite Thrawn’s disquiet, she left word with Drew requesting the pleasure of their company. The Grand Admiral was uneasy over her decision to reveal herself to her friends but after so many revelations, and her struggles to ward off attacks from Harding; her friends would be a comfort to her.

Of course, they came.

They brought wings.

Fink wasn’t sure what she wanted so he got lemon pepper and the spicy blend she loved when she was pregnant for Athena. Tate brought pictures of his vacation with Sarah and news – he was going to propose! If she said yes (which everyone agreed she would) Mark would be best man.

“So, when do we get to see the kid, Savona?” Rick rumbled as he gnawed on one of the last parmesan garlic wings.

“I asked about that…maybe later?”

“Like later, later or just later?” Fink asked rolling his eyes dramatically.

“Later, as in a friend was going to bring her by.”

Everyone stopped chewing.

“No shit?” Rick seemed to perk up.

Allen looked out the window and stood up, “This friend wouldn’t happen to be a blonde that your brother trips over his own junk for?”

Elinor stood up too, looking out – Crissa Pyrondi was here and Drew had gone out to meet her. She snorted at Allen’s euphemism, blushing slightly. “Yep, that’s her.”

Fink stood up and clapped excitedly, “Yaaaah! Come to Uncle Finky!”

Pyrondi walked in and smiled shyly at the five men staring at her avidly like adoring fans waiting for autographs – she shot Elinor a disbelieving look, “Hello.”

The Lieutenant Commander was met with enthusiastic rumbles of hello, hi, and hey.

“Um, Elinor? He said he’d like to come first.”

_Uh oh._

She made a strangled sound, “Uh let me explain a little to them fir-“

Without warning, Captain Dizon, Lieutenant Commander Wilton and Major Cran crashed into the house through the kitchen and living room windows; blasters drawn.

“Holy shit! Holy shit! Holy shit!” Allen chirped excitedly.

“Don’t kill us!” Fink was cowering behind the couch while Mark, Tate and Rick just stood with their hands up in the air looking terrified. Tate looked exceptionally petrified to the point of nausea. He suddenly jerked his head to the side and threw up buffalo wings on Rick’s shoes.

“Ugh fuck Tate! Now I’m going to die with puke on my shoes and it’s not even mine!”

“I-I-I’m sorry man. I wasn’t feeling good to begin with.”

“Thanks for the heads up.” Rick rolled his eyes and stared balefully at the Imperials still pointing their blasters at him.

“Cran, stand down!” Elinor moved toward him – this prompted Dizon to shift his aim toward her; she bristled. Cran’s eyes darted to him and the look he gave the stormtrooper Captain should have killed the man.

“This is not necessary! These men are my friends!” she screamed at the Imperials

“Sorry, Elinor. We have orders.” Pyrondi said through clenched teeth.

“What?”

“Hold until _he_ arrives.” Cran whispered.

“Why?” she screamed in frustration.

“A test.” The calm smooth voice came from behind her. There was the sound of measured footsteps; apparently the Grand Admiral didn’t feel like being obvious and refrained from using the front door.

She silently thanked him for dressing in his armor; the sight of him would probably send her friends into hysterics. Regardless of his presentation, Thrawn’s delivery was terrible.

“What sort of test?” she growled at the Chiss in disguise.

“Merely a measure of their intensions.”

She folded her arms over her chest, “They’re my friends. I’ve known them for years. They wouldn’t hurt me – they’re like family.” Her voice shook.

He turned to her and she could feel his glowing red eyes studying her. Still facing her he gestured to someone from behind him.

“Bridger?”

Ezra seemed to peel himself out of the shadows looking guilty, “Hey Elinor.”

“Ezra, why did he rope you into this?”

“Jedi Bridger can sense-” Thrawn paused, “-hostility.” He stepped toward her gently putting his helmeted head closer to hers, “I will not risk it.”

She nodded and looked over at her friends, “Hey guys – this is Ezra – he’s just going to-“

“Holy shit, he’s going to probe us!” Rick still had his hands up, but he was looking around at the others as if waiting for them to come to the same conclusion.

“Rick, no one is probing anyone.” She whined; realizing then he was the only one of the five that knew the man under the armor may _not_ actually be human.

She turned to Ezra looking resignedly at him, “I’m sorry for you. Don’t judge the planet too harshly by what you find inside their heads.”

“Elllinnnoorr?” Fink called her name slowly; cautiously, “What the hell is going on?”

“It’s ok Fink. These are…um part of my protective detail.”

The young Jedi pursed his lips and scowled, pacing slowly in the living room; going over the same floor board several times causing it to creak in the same way again and again. Her entourage had the good sense to keep their collective mouths shut and she was happily surprised.

Ezra abruptly flinched, causing Thrawn to raise his blaster sharply at the assembled group; she gasped.

“What? NO!”

Ezra shook his head emphatically, “Thrawn, wait.”

Every Imperial in the room seemed to vibrate with hyperawareness, “It’s not them,” the Jedi continued.

His eyes shifted to Fink, “Schlizer…Who is Schlizer?”

Ellie’s best friend looked at Ezra and then at her; his lip trembling, “He’s the PI we hired to look for Ellie when she disappeared the last time.”

Ezra inhaled sharply.

“Bridger?” Thrawn growled.

“What Ezra?” Elinor craned her neck to look at him.

He shook his head, “Harding and Schlizer…”

Elinor felt her blood still in her veins. Thrawn growled lowly.

“What? Is that wrong? What did I do?” Fink cried looking terrified

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Fink” she moved toward him, paused to make sure no one would stop her, then hugged him fiercely.

“Ellie, what the hell is going on? Who’s Harding?” he whispered in her ear.

“Tell you later.”

Thrawn and the Jedi were in council with each other, discussing something in hushed tones; the synopsis she would get later – right now she was more concerned about the mental health of her friends. The Imperials still had their weapons trained on the group and based on Tate’s face he was very much wanting to vomit again.

“Can you please stand down?” Elinor called to Cran and company.

The Major looked sideways at the armored figure deep in conversation with Ezra Bridger. Thrawn gestured and in a slow synchronous movement, the Imperials lowered their weapons; still eyeing the men huddled in the living room of the Savona residence. From the corner of his eye, Cran saw the Grand Admiral nod to the Jedi and then motioned for Elinor to follow him; he relaxed slightly but kept an eye on her entourage.

Elinor followed the Chiss out of earshot of the others, “Harding and Schlizer – they’re related, aren’t they?”

Thrawn cocked his head, “Bridger suspects they are one and the same.”

She frowned up at him, “We can talk more about why he believes that later, but what about the matter at hand?”

He nodded in understanding, “Speak with them. Find out all that you can about Schlizer _and_ make your request.”

“It would go a long way in the trust department if I could introduce you _or_ Athena.”

“Very well.”

Slowly, carefully she lifted the helmet off his head. His eyes studied her.

Thrawn smiled slightly and brushed her cheek; moving a stray piece of her hair away. He leaned in and kissed her gently; one hand wrapping around her waist, the other cupping the back of her head.

Since Cran had been at ease her friends had become restless. All five had gained some confidence with the security that they were in no immediate danger, hence they did what much of the population of the planet tended to do when not occupied by something. They started to complain.

“Hey Elinor! You ok? I’m not feeling good!”

“Ellie, what’s going on? These guys still have guns, ya know!”

“Yeah what the fuck, Savona?”

Elinor broke away slowly giving him a pained apologetic look, “Maybe I’ll go out first and soften them up before I bring you out for show-and-tell.”

 

Rick was grinning like an idiot because of course he already knew about “Bob”, but the other four sat looking skeptical and frustrated. Fink especially, was downright irate.

“Elinor, I-I…I guess I don’t know what to say.” He looked on the verge of tears.

“Neither did I when she tol’ me the story.” Drew snickered from the kitchen table.

“First she was in witness protection and now she was abducted by aliens?” Allen rolled his eyes mockingly. “You believe this?”

“Didn’t when she firs’ came, then she showed me th’ baby an’ I changed a few diapers – welp, tha’ did it fer me. That an’ wait ‘til ya meet th’ blue guy! He’s a laugh an’ a half.”

Elinor shot him a murderous look.

“Oh yeah, sorry – Grand Admiral Thrawn” Drew gave a perfect imitation of the Chiss’ voice and she fervently hoped Thrawn hadn’t heard it. A couple of the Imperials standing guard shuffled from one foot to the other; Pyrondi rolling her eyes.

“Ok, fine. Since seeing is believing. Let’s see the baby and the boyfriend!” Fink crossed his arms in front of his chest and raised his chin in defiance.

Elinor smiled thinly.

“Aw, this is going to be fucking _epic_.” Rick was practically bouncing up and down.

She kept her eyes on her friends, watching their reactions; she knew he’d be listening.

Indeed, he was.

The Imperial Grand Admiral stepped out from the shadows of the hallway, his eyes flicked to Cran, Dizon, Wilton and Pyrondi standing guard with their blasters drawn – just in case. He deliberately, so as not to frighten them too much, walked toward the small group; coming up behind Elinor and standing by her side.

He had expected a response prior to his final positioning - slightly behind and to her left – but none came, prompting him to furrow his brow in question.

Whether it was just the simple reality of the situation that had finally permeated their brain matter, or his change in facial expression that caused the reaction, Thrawn wasn’t quite sure, but the response was _loud_.

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.”

“Ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygod!”

“Shit Ellie, I thought you were joking!!!”

“Please don’t eat us!!! Please don’t eat us!!!”

“This is FUCKING AWESOME!”

Every single Imperial except Thrawn burst into rolling fits of laughter; the Chiss giving them a stern glare for their breach in decorum. Elinor ran frantically to each one of them trying to calm them down individually.

“It’s ok, Allen. Tate you’re safe. _Please_ don’t throw up again!”

“No Mark, I wasn’t joking! You know I don’t have a _sense of humor_!”

“Fink, he doesn’t eat people! What’s the _matter_ with you?”

“Rick, a little _help_ here please!?”

 

They talked for hours. It was almost therapeutic for her to finally be able to tell them what really happened to her last summer – the evidence was standing behind her; occasionally making them nervous when he moved a certain way. She told them a little about what was going on – the sensitive information was redacted, but Ellie finally got around to making her request.

“Elinor, you know I could lose my job, right?” Fink’s voice was small and plaintive.

“I know Fink, I know. I wouldn’t ask you, if there was any other way.”

She sat on Drew’s couch looking across at her friend. Mark shifted and shrugged, “I can open up the room for you, we can grab a few things and place them on our desks – make some excuse that they’re props for a presentation.”

“You got the Xcon presentation coming up in two days?” Tate offered, his eyes moved over to Thrawn again.

The Grand Admiral had placed his helmet back on his head. Elinor’s friends were unnerved by his appearance and apparently a tall being in a full set of Mandalorian armor wasn’t nearly as intimidating as a Chiss in an olive-green Imperial uniform.

“Perfect!” Rick smirked, “You just find something – oh like the old crayon plugs – remember those Ellie? – get a couple of those and show them off.”

She wilted, “I need something a little bit thicker than a crayon plug, guys. Sorry.”

The group was silent for a few moments; Elinor propping her chin up on her knee looking forlorn

“What about the old zirconium alloy plugs from Salvo Incorporated and the connecting bolts?” Fink asked raising his eye brows thoughtfully.

A smile began to form, it was mirrored by the others.

“That could work.” she grinned, nodding, “That could work nicely!”

 

She said her good-byes to them with promises of seeing them all again soon. There were furtive glances at the armored figure standing always behind and to her left – the familiar tendencies and adjustments they both had made when he was her bodyguard on the Chimaera, returned easily. They both moved around each other with a comfort that betrayed the true extent of their connection to Elinor’s friends.

They lined up to shake his hand, muttering nice-to-meet-you’s, take-care’s and one “behave yourself” (the latter coming from Rick Haines).

They weren’t ignorant, but they were nervously optimistic for her – he was her choice after all. Ellie was changed. She was happy; more secure in her own self than she’d ever been.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!
> 
> This chapter was mostly silly, I know but the parts Ellie needs for the Lambda will help in the future and certainly having her friends know about her - ahem - family arrangement will be useful in the future...in fact one friend will turn out particularly helpful. 
> 
> The next few chapters lead up to a crescendo - the problem is...well...never mind. I'll just wait.
> 
> On a different note: last week I happened to drink Diet Ginger Ale again for the first time in a while and in honor of Pi Day burped out the very definition of irrationality - all the way out to the six! That is 3.1415926...then I threw up.
> 
> These are the stupid things you do when you're laid off, waiting for the phone to ring and don't want to edit drivel. 
> 
> Cheers (((BURRRRRRP)))


	52. Preparation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning:  
> None
> 
> In This Chapter:  
> Elinor's lightsaber  
> Searching for the TIE Defender - Pyrondi's high  
> Take it apart  
> “I only require you.”  
> The Grand Admiral's had enough  
> Whittland watching  
> Klary knows  
> TIE fighter: Store away from direct sunlight...and cows.  
> Thrawn's project.  
> Surveillance of the Vogue.

 

The ground station was set, the signal was ready. Comm jamming was something she had punted to Pyrondi and Dizon. But once the two Imperials were confident, they could scramble or interrupt signals on variable frequencies, then the real work would begin.

According to Thrawn jamming commlink signals was something they did on a regular basis, but they lacked the necessary equipment on the planetary surface and would therefore need to start from scratch.

Her job, once it all came together, was to figure out how the two concepts could co-exist without cancelling each other out. They needed to project a signal up to an orbital satellite yet block commlink communication in the near vicinity on the ground. The trick would be in finding the resonance frequency or a terminal distance between the ground station and the source of the jamming.

While Crissa and Dizon swore colorfully over their assignment; Elinor continued to retrofit the Lambda and work on her meditation and lightsaber techniques. All she needed was the strong metal components Fink had agreed to pilfer for her.

TES had accumulated multiple samples of vendor products – all of which were scrap materials. Parts and components that could not be used due to some logistical issue in paperwork or some slight off-spec. dimension. They could be used as mock-ups and that was about it.

Various vendors and even some customers would provide “examples” of anything from valve bonnets to plugs used in piping for hydro-electric plants. Much of the material was made from high concentrations of iron, nickel and zirconium.

The specific plugs and connecting bolts Elinor had in mind were made from alloys with properties that made them the best for high stress, high-pressure environments. The expansion coefficient was reasonable too so the plugs wouldn’t turn into pumpkins upon leaving the surface and entering the cold of space.

She waited anxiously for Fink or one of the others to send word of his success.

He and Mark were risking a lot in swiping a couple bolts and plugs from the TES offices. Not only was it stealing TES property but also the company that made the component – the products composition was proprietary and confidential. They could easily go down for corporate espionage.

Elinor paced nervously. Thrawn distracted her at one point by requesting he speak with Dr. Savona in private. A half hour later she exited the cock pit, clothes rumpled, red-faced and more wound up than ever. But she was still at a dead stop until she got the parts she needed to continue the retrofit – it didn’t matter how smooth the Grand Admiral’s voice was or how nice his hands felt.

She would go crazy if she didn’t do something. And soon.

Meditate.

That was Ezra’s solution to the building anxiety within her.

And so, Elinor made a small trek into the forest near the Imperial camp to sit and think about something other than stress intensity limits and where she put the second hydrospanner.

Although she hated to admit it to the young Jedi, it did help, as did the lightsaber practice; it was at the end of her exercise that she got her next idea.

“Ezra, how did you build this?” Ellie asked looking down at her now deactivated blade.

He shrugged, “I built lightsabers before, but they were…different.”

He scratched the back of his head absently, “Why?”

Her mouth moved up in a slight smile, “It’s really yours so I won’t try it without your say-so, but I’d like to take it apart and look at it.”

Ezra scowled, “Sure. I built it for you – it’s yours.”

She looked up suddenly, taken aback by the admission. She had viewed it as something on loan; fashioned and built by someone else but used by her. It was denoted in her mind as “hers” but it didn’t really _belong_ to her, until now. Elinor felt a wave of emotion flood her and before she could stop herself, she wrapped him in a hug.

The young Jedi stood rigidly for a second and then relaxed into her embrace, “Thank you Ezra. For everything.”

She felt him bob his head above her and swallow, “Just try to put things back where you found them. If you damage the crystal and the power cell somehow, I’m not sure I can build another one out of soda cans and a Duracell battery.”

 

Dizon had told her the Grand Admiral had a gift with animals. She didn’t have the opportunity to quiz him on what he’d meant by the obvious joke before she and Thrawn went out searching for the location.

Crissa had tried to forget the experience; not only had she just abandoned her post, but she had to tip-toe through the woods to avoid a large number of ill-tempered snakes. Pyrondi had used a tree branch to clear a path for herself as she cautiously moved through the area several months prior. Using the stick, she had carefully swept the ground in front of her before moving forward; the beady eyed reptiles blended in with the fallen leaves and didn’t take kindly to being stepped on.

She was extremely relieved to find her second trek through the area was significantly easier although it was made under cover of darkness. The landing site as she remembered it was approximately fifty kilometers to the north of Uptown. Pyrondi and Thrawn used the location where she’d exited the wooded area, near the roadway; finding the man in the large truck that would drive her, as a starting point.

Despite the darkness, the Chiss chose to wear his armor; covering his face would avoid scrutiny they certainly didn’t need. The Lieutenant Commander followed but kept a close eye on the forest floor – did snakes sleep?

When they finally _did_ find it; it was in worse shape than Crissa remembered it.

She had landed beautifully; proud she had sunk down into the trees stealthily, she had performed all the appropriate shutdown and lock sequences correctly. Yet…

Something or someone had gotten the cockpit hatch open.

That wasn’t the worst of it.

There was fluorescent pink and green paint flamboyantly sprayed on two of the three panels; clothing was strung up on one of the prongs like an effigy.

“What in the Nine Hells happened here?” she mumbled.

Thrawn cocked his head, “It appears the site was discovered – likely by rebellious adolescences if I understand the graffiti correctly.”

_Great._

She climbed up to the hatch and heaved it open; sliding into the cockpit she was met by a terrible woodsy smell which made her nose wrinkle and her eyes water. She looked around and immediately regretted it. Several discarded wrappers and other evidence, along with the smells suggested the TIE Defender had seen _a lot_ of action.

Pyrondi decided she’d make Cran be the one to disinfect it when they hauled it back to the camp. She laughed out loud over the thought and then clasped her hand over her mouth in embarrassment.

She clambered out, “Lock codes are still in place, sir.”

“Excellent.”

“How are we going to get it back to camp, sir?”

“You are on good terms with Andrew Savona, are you not Commander?”

_Oh, Bantha shit – here it comes._

“Uh, sir?”

Thrawn sighed; sounding almost frustrated.

“Lieutenant Commander Pyrondi, I neither know nor _care_ what you find appealing in Andrew Savona’s company. So long as the appeal does _not_ adversely impact your duties, I will _continue_ to not care. Is that understood?”

Pyrondi had to work moisture back into her mouth to answer, “Understood, sir.” Her response came out as a squeak.

“Good. Now Savona has several pieces of farm equipment, does he not?”

“He does, sir.” Her head was starting to spin, and she sought to right herself; wondering whether if it was because her CO was copacetic with her breaking fraternization rules or if the smell in the cockpit was continuing to affect her.

“Would one of them be up to the challenge?”

“Not likely, sir.”

Thrawn grunted.

A stray memory roused Crissa from her strange stupor, “Um, sir? Whadda ‘bout a U-Haul? The vehicle Elinor used to transport her belongings – it should be big enough if we take the TIE’s panels off – it was small enough to fit in a troop transport too. We could drive it ‘round.” She giggled as she made a steering motion with her hands.

The armored figure turned to her appraisingly, “Are you well, Commander?”

She giggled again, “Yes, sir!” and then as an afterthought, “but don’t go in the cockpit, sir. It smells _terrible_ in there.”

 

The Grand Admiral returned to find Elinor in the shuttle cockpit, but she wasn’t asleep. Athena was wrapped comfortably in her make-shift crib - tightly rolled blankets surrounding her – her wispy black hair flying out in every direction around her head as she made soft sleeping sounds. Her mother sat hovering over something new, or rather something that she’d had in her possession for some time but had never bothered to truly look at before.

Elinor Savona was taking apart a Jedi’s weapon.

She was slowly readjusting the focusing lens after having moved the activator around when she felt his hand on her shoulder.

“Come. Rest.”

“Hm. Almost done.” She murmured.

“You have said that already, twenty minutes ago, in fact.” He countered.

She finished turning the lens, pushed the small panel holding everything inside the cylinder closed and sighed, “I had no idea the Grand Admiral was counting the minutes.” She joked.

Elinor stood from her seat and turned. His helmet was off, but he was still in his armor. She meant to ask him if he had any luck finding the last remaining Defender, but old habits tended to die hard. He moved closer to her and she instinctively moved her hands to the metal chest plate separating them; kissing him gently. Thrawn, wanting her to stay longer, moved his gloved hands down to her hips and pulled her against him, making her forget about the retrofit, the lightsaber, the Defender; everything.

Everything, except for him.

 

“Elinor?”

The voice was insistent and unwelcome.

“NO! GO AWAY!”

She could see Harding’s smile in her mind’s eye. The medium between them was different somehow; not as finely focused, as if she were seeing him from under water.

“Elinor, please, I have something to tell you!”

“Go to hell. I don’t want to hear anything you have to say. You stay away from me. You stay away from my daughter!” she snarled and pushed away, the medium becoming even more blurred.

He tried to grab her subconscious mind and got a loose grip on her – she struggled while pulling away.

“Wait, wait!” he chuckled, “I’d like to offer you a solution to this?”

“What? So, you can steal my daughter from me?”

He laughed outright and the sound of it made her struggle even more; she was winning – slowly she was gaining ground and pulling away from him. She felt his grip tighten but her mind squirmed refusing to be dominated.

“You know my intentions. So? Intentions can change. I have an idea to resolve our…conflict.” Harding purred the last word.

She was focused on her struggle slowly building her power – let him talk and talk if he wished – she would blast her way out of his grasp if she had to. A brief pang of worry hit her though; would it be like last time? Her in a coma for days after?

Elinor steeled herself for the fight – focusing her strength.

“I don’t need Thrawn or Athena.”

She felt her forehead wrinkle in confusion.

_What game is he playing now?_

“I only require you.” Harding stated.

Elinor bristled, “Let me go!”

“Do something for me first. Tell me if I’m lying when I tell you I only require you.”

She redoubled her efforts to pull away, twisting her unconscious mind away; back and forth trying to pry his hold from her psyche. He held on but the battle was fought silently for a long time. Finally, Elinor gritted her teeth, instead of pulling away she suddenly tried pushing at him.

She descended into _his_ subconsciousness and felt like she’d fallen into a vat of mynock saliva; repulsive and burning.

“Look for the lie, Elinor.” Harding teased.

She shifted around the environment; putting up her defensive walls to protect herself but she didn’t feel him push at her. He was simply holding her.

She had never actively sought to find something _in_ someone’s mind. She would never go charging around opening doors, looking around without permission; the pieces of information she did glean were revealed to her in some way.

Elinor never demanded to look inside _anyone_ , fully aware that people hid things for good reason – painful, terrible things – and were best reserved for their keeper’s thoughts. What Harding was asking her to do was taboo, to her at least.

“I don’t want to be here!” she screamed at him.

“Look. I’m not lying!”

She inhaled deeply, centering herself, Elinor searched recalling his statement.

_I only require you._

Focusing on the meaning behind it.

She felt her physical body jerked; her legs twitching slightly.

Her mind immediately jumped to the next danger.

_What about Klary?_

There was nothingness; an echo of ignorance, a genuine expression of confusion. She felt her physical body move again. He let her go immediately – she saw the remnants of his smile as her eyelids fluttered. She lifted her head and focused on the steel gray wall of the cockpit; the floor underneath her.

She was in the Lambda – it was just a dream.

Elinor lay her head back down and felt the warmth behind her shift. She closed her eyes and smiled. Thrawn placed his hand on her bare hip.

Something was off.

His touch wasn’t the light caress it usually was; his fingers dug into her skin as his hand sank down toward her belly.

“I only require you.”

The voice purred in her ear as she screamed and flailed madly, desperately trying to fly away from the manic laughter of George Harding.

It was then, that Elinor truly woke up.

 

The Grand Admiral had finally calmed her after an apparent nightmare but had requested Yermentic watch over her. Ezra Bridger had obviously sensed something; running at top speed toward the shuttle cockpit, lightsaber in his hand, but not activated, leading Thrawn to suspect the boy knew what had transpired.

He was in far better condition to explain, than Elinor, the significance and so the Chiss pulled the young Jedi aside and towered over him to convey a sense of impatience. Without preamble he began his interrogation.

“What has happened, Bridger?”

The Jedi looked at him wide eyed and shook his head, “I felt her panic.”

“Yes, thank you. I saw it.” Thrawn growled, “Tell me what else you _felt_.”

He wetted his lips, realizing probably for the first time he ought not to get on the Grand Admiral’s last nerve which was precariously frayed. Shortly behind the thought of caution was a sense of satisfaction.

Apparently Chiss _did_ have temper tantrums.

“Harding tried to attack her again.”

“Tried?”

“Yes. Tried.” Ezra nodded solemnly, “He didn’t get very far.”

“If she successfully blocked his attack, why –“ he gestured to the cockpit door “-is she in her current state? Should there be no impact to her with a successful mental defense?”

The boy shrugged, “I don’t know. Elinor would be able to explain her reaction better than me.”

The Grand Admiral turned, climbing the ramp to the shuttle. The sobs had since receded, and she had stopped pacing like a caged animal. Yermentic noticed his return, nodded once and quietly excused herself. Thrawn was to her in just a few steps, cupping her face with both hands,

“Tell me.” His voice took on a pleading tone, much to his surprise. He could not have her in a continuous state of fear.

“He-Harding doesn’t want Athena.” She tried to hide her eyes from him; looking down resolutely at his chest. He tilted her chin back as he felt his forehead crease.

“Then he is lying.”

“No” he felt her head shake in his hands.

His frowned deepen.

“How do you know this?”

A single tear streaked down her cheek, quickly as if to avoid being spotted moving over her pale face, “He let me look,” she whispered.

“What does he want, if not our daughter?”

Thrawn felt the cold tingle in between his shoulder blades.

More tears spilled down her face as it contorted in utter despair; a small wheezing cry escaping her as she shook her head vehemently.

“Tell me.” He demanded, more forcefully than he had intended.

“Me.” She screamed, “Me. He only wants me. You and Athena can go free – at least as far as he’s concerned. All he needs is me.”

He felt a hiss leave him involuntarily and Elinor jerked at the sudden violence behind his eyes.

“I don’t know why,” she continued. “He wants the Chimaera, but he could probably fix it himself! He doesn’t need me!” She wailed.

The Grand Admiral knew why. One of Harding’s many taunts while he was being tortured.

“He will not touch you.”

She shivered into him and they were silent for a long time. Thrawn was already planning.

“What are you thinking?” she asked him.

“I am thinking of the best defense.” He mused, his eyes narrowed.

 

The Commander had left him instructions; contact her if Andrew Savona’s routine had changed.

The guy was boring.

Didn’t go anywhere, didn’t do anything except take care of the damn animals and prepare his fields for planting – hell, he didn’t even have a TV!

The only excitement the poor shmuck seemed to get was when a pretty blonde came calling. She rode up in a black SUV and the man just about fell off his damn tractor getting to her before her feet touched the ground. He picked her up; flung her over his shoulder like she was a sack of potatoes, both laughing as he marched into the house.

_Some guys have all the luck._

Forty-five minutes later they both came out, arm in arm. Whittland rolled his eyes over his binoculars, peering back through the lenses to get a better look at the blonde.

“Well, hello Officer Pyrondi, you bitch.”

The woman along with her “partner” had made a fool of him by impersonating black and whites from the 76th precinct. Whittland still remembered the Police Chief’s face when he told him they didn’t have an Officer Cran _or_ an Officer Pyrondi in the _entire_ district. The slip in protocol had landed him with a disciplinary letter in his permanent record and a place at a desk as a paper pusher.

Agent Doug Whittland was debating whether to follower her or not when she left, but when she did leave, Andrew Savona followed her SUV in his pickup – essentially deciding for him. The two traveled south on the road away from town; turning off to the west about 8 miles from the county center; still deeper into the rural area.

To avoid detection by his quarry, Whittland continued to drive; past the westward road, but he would certainly be telling his employer about what he’d observed. He would mention the road and its approximate location to Klary as well as the blonde, Pyrondi.

Perhaps she would have him investigate further. Either way the money would be good…

 

The Chimaera’s Engineering team had finally gotten their tractor beam working so it was his first time experiencing a “smooth” approach into the Star Destroyer’s maw. He understood though that it was significantly easier to maneuver the troop transport than the shuttles he had previously been accustomed to. Regardless the arrival was effortless, and he was immediately summoned to the Commander’s office. He strode inside, smirking as he did so, but soon caught the seething anger its one other occupant seemed to be roiling in.

_She knows and I’m going to take great pleasure in killing Doug Whittland._

The best thing he could do would be to get out in front of it…

“Commander, I understand you’ve been informed of Elinor Savona’s presence.”

A muscle in her jaw twitched; a ripple of surprise radiated outward.

“I’d like to know why you chose to keep it a secret.” Klary ground out.

He nodded his understanding, “I have planted some interesting - shall we say - doubts, inside her mind. They will weaken her, and by doing so weaken the Grand Admiral.”

He tilted his chin down and looked at her speculatively, “I understood that to be one of your primary goals.”

“It was, yes. I’m still waiting for you to tell me why you kept it a secret.” She slowly carefully removed her hand from below the desk; revealing her blaster.

He smiled wistfully, “Because, my dear Commander, Elinor Savona is getting stronger and Thrawn has his pet Jedi. Thrawn is blind. He’s obsessed with protecting Savona and their daughter; he’ll bring the fight to me, if he has to – the way to convince him of that is to continue the harassment of both her and the child.”

“So?”

“No offense, Commander but subtly is not your strong suit. I needed to make sure they were not frightened off.”

She smiled knowingly, “And you didn’t trust me to keep my hands off.”

“Would you have trusted me?” he countered.

She tilted her head in amused agreement, “And what now, Mr. Harding?”

“We wait.”

Klary leaned forward, adjusting the blaster slightly, “For what exactly?”

“With my little prods to her defenses, I’ve also taken care of her rudimentary attacks. I can hide myself from her,” he smiled wistfully “she cannot see me as I see her.”

“I couldn’t care less about Elinor Savona, Mr. Harding. If I find her, I would be just as likely to put a blaster bolt between her eyes than not – I want Thrawn. Thrawn is the secret to the Chimaera.”

Harding ground his teeth. He could not have Klary interfere with his continued discussions with Elinor, “You’re wrong Commander. The secret to the Chimaera is Thrawn, of course, but the secret to Thrawn is Elinor Savona.”

Her eyes narrowed.

“If you have her, you will get him.” He clarified

She studied him for several long heartbeats, “You want her. Don’t you?”

His lips quirked upward, but he said nothing.

Her jaw tightened and her eyes hardened, daring him to continue his silence. She jiggled her blaster menacingly; letting him know once again she still had the upper hand.

“Call it…a personal interest.”

She laughed rancorously, “Give me Thrawn, and I will make sure to keep your _personal interest_ alive. Fuck with me again, and your happily ever after gets shoved down an incineration shaft.”

He felt his anger rise; the ripples around him started to move. Harding suppressed them grudgingly, “I understand, Commander.”

It was very fortunate he had his mental conversation with Elinor before being called in by the Commander – with her increasing strength he doubted very seriously if he could have kept Klary’s reiterated desire to kill Thrawn, from her. Now that he had experienced what it was like to have her in his own mind, he could ward off her pathetic little jabs if she decided to make the attempt. Harding was immune now.

And so much the better.

Elinor was the key to everything. Where she’d go Athena would be tugged along due to their bond – the depth of which he doubted she even understood. Thrawn would follow her to hell and back, the poor love-sick alien - and with him the Chimaera.

Whether she knew it or not, Elinor Savona was the first domino in the line.

“Was there anything else you wished to tell me?” she pointedly looked down at her service weapon.

He smiled he best disarming smile, “As a matter of fact, I wanted to speak to you about your shuttle…something I pieced out while conversing with Elinor.”

 

Drew looked at the thing and snorted.

“Seriously?”

“Yes.” Thrawn nodded absently

“Ya mean ta tell me, tha’ thing flies?” Elinor brother’s drawled.

“It has in the past, yes.”

“An’ ya wan’ me ta leave it where exactly? It ain’t gunna fit inta the barn.” Drew squinted at the TIE Defender, measuring it with his eyes.

“Elinor informs me there would be ample room, if you were to remove some of your cows.”

“Aw she did, did she? Huh, welp Ellie an’ I gotta hava lil’ talk. Just where am I gunna hold th’ cows while ya store yer-“ he looked skeptically at the fighter and couldn’t come up with an adequate derogatory name or pun; shrugging in frustration, “-yer thing here?”

The Grand Admiral hid the slight smile threatening to betray him, “She indicated, they would be at home in your field. Their residence there would be of short duration.”

“Yuh huh.” The man still seemed doubtful, eyeing the alien warlord carefully, “Alright, on one condition.”

Thrawn grimaced. He wasn’t in the habit of compromising, but Andrew was Elinor’s brother. He could be persuaded to consider payment for the use of the man’s building. The Chiss cocked an eyebrow at him, waiting for him to name his price, hoping Pyrondi could arrange enough funds – he would hate to have to steal money from a local vendor.

The farmer dug into his coat pocket and produced a box handing it over to the other, “Here. Give Elinor this. It was our mother’s.”

 

She had wondered vaguely what the Grand Admiral had done during the times when everyone in the camp was buzzing around either procuring materials, modifying the shuttle, doing surveillance work or just going about normal everyday activities like preparing food, washing clothes and taking care of an increasingly ornery infant.

He finally enlightened her.

Elinor stepped into the cramped storage compartment which had obviously been turned into a work station. Various bits and pieces of metal and electronic parts were skewn around the bench; next to it, and the chair was a metal waist-high ring

“What’s that?”

“A project of mine.” He smiled thinly, “It is called a droideka.”

She wrinkled her nose cynically, to her it looked as though the Grand Admiral had taking his passion for art and turned it into his abstract interpretation of Bohr’s model of the atom. The ring had various asymmetric parts inside it; a compact copper-colored sphere was situated fairly low to the ground within its confines.

“What’s it used for?” she shot him a look out the corner of her eye to find him studying her.

Elinor realized he wanted her to offer up her speculations; she pursed her lips and walked over to the thing. Tentatively she felt around the top smooth surface. Inside there seemed to be several gears and pneumatic robotics to go along with some advanced electronic components.

_Were those blaster?_

She checked for latches or handles; inspecting the panel on the center body above the lower sphere. On either side of the box there was, what appeared to be a drive axial and in the center at each end, a slightly raised surface; she pressed each simultaneously with the intent of rotating it.

Without warning the whole sphere seemed to come alive; cracking open revealing a squat tripod base with two long metal arms and a hooded head, like that of a cobra. She screamed and stumbled back, scrambling away, bumping into Thrawn’s legs in her attempted escape.

There was a slight chuckle from above her and she glared up at him; the Grand Admiral looked down at her pressed up against his shins and she resisted the urge to lightly elbow him.

“It is a battle droid; to be used as additional protection. A contingency plan.”

Once she got control of her breathing, she moved closer to the thing, “How did you build it?”

“You flatter me, Elinor,” he teased, “I did not build it. The droid was stowed in the cargo hold of the shuttle, it required maintenance only.”

He paused, “It is an old design from a war fought twenty years ago.”

“Obviously it’s still useful,” she said eyeing the droideka.

“Indeed.”

“So, under what conditions would it be used for additional protection?”

He turned to her, assessing her with his piercing red eyes. She waited for his response, certain he would provide it when he felt comfortable in all the pieces of his plan. Thrawn looked at her for quite some time and she unconsciously moved closer to him; interpreting his silence as worry. Finally, he bowed his head somewhat in consideration of her clear concern for him.

“I intend to use the droideka as an extra measure of protection on your brother’s farm.” He said evenly.

Her eyes narrowed slightly but she slowly nodded in understanding, “For Athena.”

“Yes.”

“I’ll talk with Drew.”

“There is no need. I have already spoken to him about use of the battle droid on his property as well as the storage of the TIE-Defender.” The Grand Admiral explained.

Elinor studied him and caught a slight flicker in his emotions, “And he was fine with all of that?”

The Chiss stopped and stood very still for a handful of heartbeats; smiling wryly, he seemed to come alive again, “He did provide stipulations, all of which I am very happy to comply with.”

It was bad enough when her brother was up to mischief but to potentially rope Thrawn into it…surely the Grand Admiral would know not to get himself or her brother into too much trouble.

“What stipulations?” she growled lowly.

To her complete surprise he tipped back his head and laughed, heartily.

 

Major Thae Cran watched the building on 3rd Street. It held luxury condominiums as well as posh office spaces. The condos were on the lower floors, office spaces were higher up and at the very top of the building was one of the hottest, most expensive, most tasteful restaurants in Uptown.

The rumor was everyone who was anyone came to the Chateau Vogue. Society’s elite, dignitaries, CEOs of large corporations, the rich, the powerful, had at one point or another been seen at the rooftop brasserie.

Through Dizon’s investigative work, they deduced that Tassi/Harding/Schlizer had an office on the 45th floor of the building. His living arrangements were identified under George E. Harding and his condo was situated in one of the highly coveted corner units on the 21st floor. The man occupying said condo would partake in the Chateau’s menu and had an affinity for their extensive wines.

To gain access to the building one would require either a formal invitation from one of the tenants, residential or commercial, or have a reservation at the Chateau – there was a wait list. Based on the surveillance and information accumulated by the Major and the stormtrooper Captain, it would, indeed take those things to get access.

The access restrictions were just too strict - retinal scans for tenants and those same scans to approve anyone’s entry in the case of a visiting entity. The security staff was too well trained; likely former military personnel.

“It’s like some vacuumed brained nerf decided to turn it into the Imperial Palace.” He grumbled to Dizon, “Why in the Nine Hells would they do that?”

The stormtrooper Captain shrugged, “It’s universal Major, the wealthy and powerful like security.”

Cran looked through his set of macros again zooming out from the building to the surrounding structures and stopped, laughing slightly, “No. No, it’s not that. Captain, have you ever heard the expression, ‘Follow the money’?”

The other man put down his own lenses and looked over at him, then tracked his angle of view with his eyes. Looking down from their perch – an apartment building across the street with security that was significantly less strict – he squinted down. Dizon chuckled but looked through his own macrobinoculars to confirm his suspicions.

Sure enough, next door to the Vogue, perhaps the most pretentious address in all of Uptown, was the Uptown Royalties Art Museum.

“The Grand Admiral is going to have an aneurism.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi,
> 
> A couple little bits - the tractor beam is fixed (score two for Tela and the Chimaera's engineers!), Harding was starting to get worried about Elinor being able to attack him - she kind of blew him up during their last big show down - she saw what his true intentions were despite him trying to shield them from her. So with him basically pulling her into his mind he got used to the feeling so he could prevent it from happening again. But the intention is still there - he still believes Elinor is the key - he only needs her...to do what with? - it will make your skin crawl. 
> 
> Also Thrawn said before Elinor's coma that he hadn't told her anything he didn't want the enemy (ahem - like Harding) to know...(Chapter 45: Trust - I think)...the Grand Admiral's a sneaky bastard.
> 
> Keep note that the Imperials have been working on jamming and transmitting...what's that about?
> 
> How's a good old fashioned heist sound to y'all?  
> It's totally cheesy though so don't get your hopes up.
> 
> Again just want to say thank you for all the support and enthusiasm - If someone told me when I started writing this in mid-November people would actually like to read it, I'd have laughed and then cried. Posting it was my equivalent to "girl gone wild." - yeah I'm the life of the party.  
> In all seriousness, thank you.


	53. The Key To Success

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning:  
> Violent imagery
> 
> In This Chapter:  
> The Entourage meets Athena and Ellie had to take Surveillance 101.  
> Thrawn's tired of playing Harding's game.  
> The target - no loss to society in which he lives  
> The three keys to success  
> Rick is a quick sell  
> Klary has her own key - it's from Whittland  
> Elinor talks to an old friend and admires two paintings.  
> Nightmare - a broken heart  
> What's in the box?  
> To catch a thief...

 

Fink and Mark had come through, arriving at the farm as Elinor had roused Athena from her nap. Drew wasn’t sure what his sister’s plans were for her friends to know about his niece, so he launched himself off the porch. He tried to casually intercept them; going to far as to offer Fink a look at the chickens. She grinned at his protective nature and carefully held her daughter as she approached her entourage.

Their reaction couldn’t have been more enduring. Fink started to cry, begging to hold her. Tate and Allen wanted to tickle her cheeks, Mark was concerned that he would get her sick if he got too close; he was recovering from a cold. Rick was speechless for once.

Mark absently passed over the heavy bag with her requested metal components as Drew stared at the five men, snickering quietly.

Of course, nothing ever seemed to happen that the Grand Admiral hadn’t already planned for. He still had to keep tabs on everything not just with real eyes but mechanical ones as well. Pyrondi was sent to the farm with her and Cran and Dizon were sent in behind the carload of engineers.

Prior to her meeting, however Dizon gave her a crash course on remote surveillance – the use of a CT-10 monitor. Thankfully the Captain had slowly warmed to her again, despite his cold distrust of her after the delusional attack on Thrawn. Ellie certainly couldn’t begrudge the man his suspicion – the hurt over Gilad Pellaeon was still fresh in everyone’s mind.

As Dizon lectured on the finer points of the transmitter, she gaped in wonderment and mused out loud that she had never seen anything like the little device before.

The stormtrooper laughed, “That’s because we’re good at what we do.”

Elinor’s head snapped up from her review of the mechanical thing she had been studying. He looked at her wide-eyed and swallowed the mouth full of jerky his salivary glands had been working to tenderize most of the morning.

“Uh, ma’am?”

“What did you say?”

“Uhhh.”

Hence began a long _very_ awkward discussion with Arton Dizon, then Thae Cran, then Crissa Pyrondi and once Ellie had become steadily more irritated over having her privacy infringed upon, Grand Admiral Thrawn.

“How long did you watch me?” she growled as he led her to the cockpit and keyed the door closed.

“Long enough to know you were capable of helping us fix the Chimaera.”

She frowned, “So it was almost like a job interview, and I wasn’t even aware of _it_?”

Thrawn lifted his eyebrows in question, “I hope you found the interview process as enjoyable as I did.”

Despite her intension of remaining angry, lips firmly pressed together, arms crossed over her chest; the polite mildly interested expression on the Grand Admiral’s face made her wiggle her nose, “A fox should take care of its own tail.”

She regretted her father’s old adage as soon as she uttered it because Thrawn smiling evilly down at her caused her to blush scarlet.

“An apt metaphor.”

 

Once Ellie returned with Athena and her loot from her old TES office, the Imperials were deep in conversation in the main passenger area of the shuttle; standing around a holo image of a large building. Elinor recognized it; had seen it but only from afar – she had watched as it had been erected over the few years she’d worked in Uptown.

The Vogue.

Thrawn caught her eye and motioned her over. Cran and Dizon were arguing about the pros and cons of thermal detonators, causing her to look sharply over at the Chiss. He shook his head slightly; dismissively, rolling his eyes, as if to comfort her uneasiness. In relief, she rocked Athena a little absently, staring at the building, admiring its odd angles but cringing at its rooftop.

“What are your thoughts, Doctor Savona?” the Grand Admiral had noticed her sudden change in facial expression, no doubt.

Elinor bit her lip, “I’m not sure why the architect made the roof flat. The structure is jagged angles, conducive to dealing with a large amount of water runoff during the rainy season. The flat roof – although there’s a slight gradient doesn’t offer much help with drainage. It’s like they cut the drawing off suddenly when they printed the final design package.”

The corners of his mouth quirked up, “Indeed.”

“Would it surprise you if you knew the roof was completely made of glass?”

She couldn’t stop herself, she wrinkled her nose; prompting a deep chuckle from the Grand Admiral, “What a waste! They’ll have hot and cold spots due to pitting all over the place – I never knew getting rained on was…in vogue.”

Thrawn laughed at her choice of words. The Imperial’s around him shuffled their feet uncomfortably, unaware the Chiss had that ability to process humor.

“So why are we looking at this –“ Elinor looked at the holo again, pressing her lips together in professional distaste, “-building?”

“I wish to take the fight directly to George Harding.” Thrawn said matter-of-factly, cupping his chin and continuing to scrutinize the image.

She stopped the absent bouncing of the bundle in her arms; Athena was back to sleep anyways. Her lips puckered in confusion and her eyebrows knitted together.

“I’m sorry. What?”

“Harding is not expecting us to confront him directly. We are playing his game. Now, he shall play mine.”

Elinor shook her head frantically, “No.” she asked Crissa with her eyes if she could take the baby; the Lieutenant Commander wordlessly moved the sleeping child over to her arms. Once the transfer was complete, her eyes darted around the shuttle,

“Everybody out!” her voice trembled angrily.

They looked to the Grand Admiral for guidance; he nodded once and every Imperial filed out of the shuttle, Yermentic being the last; closing the hatch behind her. Elinor turned to him, trying to maintain control of her voice.

“You can’t go after him!”

“I can and I will.” Thrawn said evenly.

Her voice took on a pathetic, pleading note, “Why are you doing this?”

_So much for trying to stay in control, Elinor!_

“We are being hunted. It is time to change that.”

She blinked, “So you’re doing this because you’re _bored_?”

He stared at her expressionlessly.

_Ask a stupid question, Elinor…_

“How are you going to do this?” She looked incredulously at him.

He smirked; a devilish sort of expression that made her half want to run and hide and half want to take his pants off.

He stepped toward her, “I will need you.”

She felt her face turn warm and red, “ _Of course_ you do. What is it that you need, Grand Admiral?”

There was that smirk again, but Elinor decided it wouldn’t be much fun to run and hide.

 

The Grand Admiral had done his homework.

He had studied the old articles Pyrondi had given him; all the information available to the public. He diverted Dizon away from his assessment of the Vogue to go into the TES offices to further evaluate their target.

By outward appearances, he was a man of the people. A charming philanthropist, brilliant engineer and one of Uptowns most eligible bachelors. The 53-year-old was a lady’s man; enjoying the company of women – a new one every week, so it would seem. His divorce to a successful business woman, some ten years prior had been exceedingly messy, and the couple’s tribulations had peppered the city gossip columns for a years after.

From the man’s taste in art – discerned via an exposé of his home in _Uptown Life_ a periodical for the architecturally minded – Thrawn found him to be a terrible person.

He was wealthy for sure. He grew up in wealth, had been saturated in it from a young age and knew how to use it _and_ flaunt it. Everything in his home screamed of disposability. Nothing was cherished. That was not surprising to the Grand Admiral, many beings originating from power often looked at material items as replaceable; some looked at people the same way.

The man in question was not quite to the level of being a severe sociopath, but there was an undercurrent of contempt for one sub-group of individuals in his society. A group he also craved attention from.

_Interesting._

The loathing he felt for professional women stemmed from his previous wife.

She had been brilliant in the board room. Strong, sure, and capable; all the things he feared he was not. What had attracted him to her was what eventually led him to resent her. Resentment turned to outright hatred when she became the CEO of one of the lesser known technical firms in Uptown.

It was war for him.

He hated her; hated women that wanted to be like her.

Women were meant to be pretty objects – like the art he hung on his walls – something to be regarded with skepticism; not thought provoking in anyway. Used for one thing only – gratification of their admirer.

No, the disposal of the Grand Admiral’s target would be of little loss to the society in which he lived.

 

His plan was the craziest, the most ridiculously brazen form of bullshit she had ever heard, and it would work spectacularly.

The first stop was the art supply store.

The second trip was to the bar near Rick’s house, another trip was made at night; to a darkened alleyway.

These would be the keys to success.

Ellie was in over her head.

 

Rick was a quick sell.

She had gone with Cran and Pyrondi who had cautiously stayed away from the conversation; not wanting to come off as intimidating. Rick wasn’t easily daunted, regardless. He was much too cavalier for that, not to mention he was over six and a half feet tall and could likely hold his own in a brawl.

“I don’t know why you’re doing this?” once again she wondered if Rick Haines would benefit from the treatment of a professional and a liberal dose of pharmaceuticals.

“Oh, I’m not going to do it out of the kindness of my heart,” he laughed. “There’s a condition associated with this.”

_Ugh, what did you get yourself into, Elinor?_

She made a face, “Ok?”

“Your blue guy asked, right?”

She nodded, not entirely certain she liked where this was going.

“If I do this – I could lose my job, right?”

She nodded again; starting to hate herself and wondering if the Imperials would think less of her if she ordered something from the bar.

“So, I want to go with you.”

_What did he say?_

“I’m sorry. What?” she was genuinely confused.

“I want to go with you when you leave in your big ass space ship.”

Elinor blinked at him but instead of responding in the scathing manner she would have envisioned herself doing a year ago, she pulled out the drink menu propped between the wall and the napkin dispenser.

She didn’t know alcohol could look so… _pretty_.

She shrugged and shook her head vigorously when Rick prompted her for an answer – No. Nope. No way, she was _not_ qualified _or_ in any position to rent rooms out on an Imperial war ship currently hovering behind the moon.

She was _not_ going to vouch for his fitness in traveling the great expanses of space with them if they just happened to succeed in their suicidal, cockamamie, far-fetched, wild, pull-a-rabbit-out-of-their-ass plan.

“Oh c’mon, Ellie!” Rick slapped the table petulantly.

Cran walked over to their table, mumbling grouchily.

Elinor could make out “-not a pleasure transport, it’s an Imperial Star Destroyer.” She looked up at him, questioningly. The Major stared straight ahead as if at attention. She casually looked around the bar, suddenly seeing movement in the darkened corner ten feet to her left. She narrowed her eyes and shot Dizon’s CT10 surveillance devise a caustic look and closed the menu with a thunk.

Thrawn would get an ear full later.

“Mr. Haines, I have been ordered to inform you that your conditions are acceptable to the Grand Admiral. We can discuss what’ll be needed once you get into the office.”

“Sweeet!” Rick rubbed his hands together in delight, “Hey, you guys don’t need to probe me or anything, right?”

 

Her smile was dazzling. She loved when a plan came together and now that she had all the pieces in place, she’d be able to attack the problem.

Harding was wrong.

The secret was _not_ Elinor Savona.

He likely knew that, but he wanted Elinor for some perverse reason; thinking he had all the time in the galaxy if he could just get her up to the Chimaera. Somehow, in some way she would unlock the Star Destroyer and they could go on their way or Thrawn would come to her rescue and willingly hand over the reins of the massive ship?

Surely, he wasn’t so naive as to believe that? – Savona would probably die before she did, just out of spite and Thrawn would destroy the ship before letting it fall into enemy hands.

No, the key was _not_ Elinor Savona.

Agent Douglas Whittland had given her the key.

Yes, the Chimaera’s techs had showed him how to set up and plant the CT-10, but he had done it beautifully. And now the little monitoring device was situated perfectly to feed her information on the real prize – when it became available.

Commander Greta Klary would observe. She would wait until the right moment and then claim it.

 

When she returned to the Lambda that night she was emotionally wrung out. Talking to her old friend in the ally – yes, he was a friend – had brought back so many memories. Good and bad; making her long for simpler days when her biggest worries tended to be calculation deadlines and having to buy new running shoes because the treads on her old ones were worn.

Elinor hated asking for help; hated asking _him_ for help. Of all people, why would _he_ have to be the one? Couldn’t Dizon or Cran be disguised?

No, Thrawn needed them as part of the infiltration team.

Ellie sighed and walked briskly to the cockpit. She glanced at the two canvases; propped up on one of the consoles; both duplicates of each other – Kandinsky’s Improvisation 42 – Yates had done a marvelous job. No doubt the Grand Admiral had critiqued her the whole time.

Elinor would have to compliment her not only on her skill but also on her patience.

 

She was in the bay leading to the Chimaera’s bridge; a flurry of activity around her – stormtroopers were firing on…other stormtroopers and who or what marked the delineating factor between the two factions she couldn’t tell. Her own body was in rapid motion; her mind telling her not to focus too much on her own self or she would die.

_A dream._

Elinor’s subconscious mind categorized the images before her as unreal, at least not yet. She was dreaming. She twisted around and a purple lightsaber blade darted into her vision, she tumbled down, rolling away from it, but it continued to move toward her; slashing and cutting at the metal where she had been prone just moments before.

_What was Ezra doing?_

She spun far enough away from her attacker to clamber to her feet, winded and sweaty.

Elinor gasped in disbelief and horror when she saw; it was not the young Jedi holding the blade but George Harding grinning triumphantly.

To the left, the battle between the stormtroopers intensified, she saw Major Cran, several of the others – Ovally, Toldera, and Wilton firing at a cluster of the troopers, one of the troopers pushed a hostage out in front of the group as a shield

Elinor’s throat tightened.

The unmistakable armor; green and brown in a sea of white caused her to cry out to him. Harding also saw. His lips curled into a vindictive smile as he pushed through the line of stormtroopers – soldiers likely on his side of the fight as they were firing on Cran and his pocket of resistance.

“NO!” She grabbed for the lightsaber that should have been on her belt but wasn’t.

Harding had _her_ lightsaber.

“NO!” she screamed again. “THRAWN!”

Harding had pierced the line of troopers; they’d mostly parted, making way for the man with the glowing blade. He intercepted the path of the trooper leading the disguised Grand Admiral away; pivoting on one leg, he looked up, making sure she was watching.

Tears were already streaming hot down her face, her teeth clenched as she ran; a blaster shot grazed her calf, but she remained upright long enough to lunge at Harding, clawing desperately at him.

Remembrance of another dream - Harding threatening her as they sat in a posh restaurant…

_…”Your charming Grand Admiral will end up with a hole in his chest”…_

It was too late.

He plunged the blade into Thrawn’s chest plate, the tip of the blade going straight through his body; the metal of the armor smoking around the blade’s entrance and exit.

Elinor screamed and sobbed; as the armored body of the man she loved fell next to her, she was certain she would never ever survive. She dragged herself to him and as he lay dying of his wound, she too lay dying of a slower more painful injury – something she had found out long ago, could never _ever_ be cured.

_A broken heart_.

 

Elinor woke up quietly, tears streaming from her eyes. She sat up slowly as to not disturb him or Athena, but it was useless. He didn’t need as much sleep as she did and not nearly as much as their daughter.

“You dreamed.”

She wiped the tears away as inconspicuously as she could, “Yes.”

He turned, waiting for her to explain, but instead she simply lay back down next to him and put her head on his chest, pressing her hand to the spot where the lightsaber had pierced him just moments earlier. She inhaled a shaky breath as he cupped her hand in his.

“Do not take it upon yourself to protect everyone, Elinor. You must consider yourself and Athena. That is all.” He rumbled, “I have managed to survive for some time.”

She snorted, “Barely.”

“Excuse me?”

“I don’t think you were aware how bad the Chimaera really was when you handed the clean-up job to me, Grand Admiral.” Elinor teased.

“I would not have given it to you, had I not”

She sat up again and pouted at him, “Oh so now I’m your maid as well as your…engineer?”

Elinor almost said something else, stopped herself but Thrawn was much too shrewd to have missed the rising pink in her cheeks and the tremble in her voice. His smile was smug as she blushed even more, covering herself and pulling her disheveled hair back behind her face.

“Do you enjoy being _my_ engineer?” he watched her carefully as the pink turned into a flaming red making her heat the unfortunate space between them.

She made a sound in the back of her throat and bit her lip, signs of her shy awareness of his intensions. He sighed gently, sat up pulling her to him. So, distracted was she by his diversionary tactics, that she didn’t notice the little box right away – an old family heirloom inside.

 

The next morning, Rick came to pick up both canvases; speaking quietly to Thrawn before his departure which to Elinor’s chagrin was flamboyantly joyous.

“Later my fellow space faring peoples!” he saluted the Imperials as they went about their normal routine.

Toldera and Ovally looked at him, then at each other, shrugged and went back to work while Cran muttered his normal string of disbelieving curses. Yermentic giggled and waved.

She continued to work on augmenting the TES components for the shuttle and for the most part they worked. Several of the parts needed to be resized, but without industrial tooling she had to resort to her lightsaber with the understanding that they wouldn’t be precision cuts.

She could likely grind them down, albeit very carefully – zirconium was highly flammable, although zirconium oxide metals were more stable, any kind of chemical inclusions could result in combustion. Ironically, she didn’t need to grind the part down too much – the sabre cut did the trick. She was finishing up with the last piece when Lieutenant Commander Tobevoh found her.

“Ma’am, the Grand Admiral requests your presence in the principle cargo hold.” He smiled tentatively at her.

“Thanks, Tobevoh! I’ll be right there.”

She entered the main area of the shuttle to find the Grand Admiral standing with his arms clasped behind his back studying one of the screens Pyrondi had set up. By the look of it Thrawn had one of his CT10 surveillance mechanisms tracking Rick.

_Oh no, what have we gotten him into!_

She stood next to the Chiss and glanced up at his face, he was watching as Rick moved through a conference room with pieces of pumps and valves, gears and gaskets proudly on display. He was hauling a giant duffle bag with him and randomly picking things up throwing them into it with a clank or a clunk depending on how they landed or what they landed on.

“What in hell are you making him do?” Elinor’s face contorted in horror.

“He is stealing.”

She inhaled sharply looking over at him, “I can see _that_!”

Just as she was about ready to tug at his sleeve and tell him he was in for a Grand Admiral sized ass-kicking, someone walked into the conference room.

“Ah, our target is exactly on time.” Thrawn nodded approvingly.

“HEY!” a man in a suit screamed at Rick, “What the hell do you think you’re _doing_?”

“Oh! Sorry. Hey man, didn’t see you there! I’m – taking a couple things. For a presentation.” Rick didn’t sound convincing

_He sounds more convincing when he’s advocating a Caesar salad over a House salad! What’s he doing?_

“Yeah sure! What presentation?” Elinor focused on the man. She didn’t recognize him, he looked like someone she should know though – likely one of the upper managers.

“Uh, it’s top secret” Rick chuckled, “You know how it goes, man!”

“Sure, _man_.” The other snarled sarcastically.

Elinor jerked as a stray memory came back to her – an article in the company newsletter about shareholders and how the engineering departments had to tighten their belts… “Come with me, Mr….?”

“Haines. Rick Haines, at your service Mr. Tubbs!”

John Tubbs – the CEO of Total Engineering Solutions just caught her friend stealing.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello,
> 
> The pace is picking up a bit - couple things from this chapter. Thrawn pulled Dizon away from his surveillance of the Vogue...what's he up to and why are there two fake paintings? (Hint: it's because I like pain and wanted to draw this story out longer!). 
> 
> Klary's got her opinions on how to strong arm access to the Chimaera from Thrawn (her key to success) but it's different than Harding's...and she's using a CT to watch...
> 
> There will be less silliness, there will be blood and it will most likely be anticlimactic.   
> And you will hate me.  
> Thank you once again for reading! :)


	54. Set Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning:  
> Language, Violent Imagery, Implied Workplace Sexual Harassment.
> 
> In This Chapter:  
> The True Heist  
> The Security Specialist  
> A CEO can brag but..  
> ...there is justice in the world..  
> Channel 11 News: Rick's a feminist  
> Grand Admiral muses - Harding's weakness.  
> Ezra onboard, Elinor's packin' lightsaber.  
> Help from Mike.  
> Becoming Gloria Tusar  
> Stakeout with Jerky  
> Unsightly things: U-Haul  
> Improvisation 42 and restoration!!!  
> Is Mike ready?

 

Rick dragged his duffle behind him as Tubbs shot him a dirty look. The two entered the elevator to the 31st floor of the building; only the VPs, CFO and CEO sat up there.

The man led Rick into his office – or the outskirts of it – telling his secretary to hold his calls as he marched Ellie’s friend into an expansive room with an elaborate desk, high back chair, and several credenzas sporting pictures of himself shaking hands with famous people. Over one of the larger examples of ornate furnishings in Tubb’s office was a small, barely noticeable framed canvas – a little known Kandinsky.

Geometric and obtuse as Kandinsky’s work usually was, Improvisation 42 was bought for a measly forty thousand dollars at auction ten years prior by a private collector; a gentleman by the name of John Tubbs, Senior – the CEO’s father. The elder Tubbs had bequeathed it to his eldest son and namesake, who had found it to be “artsy” enough to grace his office when he became Chief Executive Officer of TES shortly before his divorce was finalized.

It was doubtful the man really understood or appreciated the paintings significance.

“What the hell were you doing?” Tubbs said without preamble as soon as his office door was closed, and Rick sat down.

“I was taking valuable property from the company, sir.” Rick answered honestly with a smirk.

Tubbs lifted his eyebrows as he moved to the other side of his desk, sitting down like a praying mantis in his high-backed chair, “I saw. Now tell me _why_?”

Rick made an obvious point of looking around the CEO’s office, “I’m trying to prove a point. You have a lot of intellectual property in this building and yet you simply don’t take care of it.”

The engineer’s eyes landed back on the man behind the desk, “I wanted to prove that you and your business associates could be losing money without even knowing it.”

“Is that why _you_ , or - I’m assuming it was _you_ -had my secretary schedule a meeting in that particular conference room – so I’d catch you in the act?”

“I did.” Rick sounded arrogant. “If you hadn’t come along, what would have happened?”

Tubbs leaned toward Rick laying his hands flat on his desk, “I still don’t know what you hoped to accomplish other than to get fired, of course.”

Rick chuckled, “Yeah, I knew that was coming, but I had a really nice aunt – she just died and left me some money – I really don’t need this gig anymore so –“he shrugged, “go out with a bang, right?”

The other man grunted, “You might be spending your inheritance on a lawyer Mr. Haines. I could have you arrested for corporate espionage or attempted theft of highly valuable property.”

“And _now_ , you see my point.” Rick grinned and gave him a duel thumbs-up.

The CEO grimaced, “My company is a relatively small one, we pride ourselves not just on our technical expertise, but our integrity as well. What you are implying is that someone can simply walk in and take proprietary information from over one hundred different companies and no one would be the wiser?”

“I’m not implying Mr. Tubbs. I’m saying it, like _point-blank_.”

“You are the nuttiest bastard I think I’ve ever met!” Tubbs shook his head incredulously, “Name one person!”

“Martin Tassi, Linda Smith, Elinor Savona, and of course Rachel Gratton Tubbs.”

Tubbs had been shaking his head with a knowing-sort of smile until Rick mentioned his ex-wife. The temperature in the room seemed to plummet.

“Savona was cleared, Smith was fired for lying and Tassi’s termination was due to his activities beyond this office.”

Rick snorted, “Sure dude, but what about Rachel, she could have hired me to get to you and it would be perfectly legal. I’d just be telling her stuff that she should already really know. Intellectual property law is a bitch and the divorce settlement kinda ruined your jam.”

Tubbs sat eyeing him for probably a good minute, when finally, he hissed in frustration, “You’re still getting fired Haines, but I want you to talk to my head of security before you go.”

“Oh sure, anything I can do Mr. Tubbs,” Rick rolled his eyes, “Go team, go!”

“Don’t be a dick about this or I’ll have your ass in jail.”

Rick cocked his head and rolled his shoulders, “Right, sorry but in case you haven’t notice it’s kinda hard for me _not_ to be a dick. It’s sort of my thing.”

Tubbs pressed a button on his desk to call for his secretary, but back in the Imperial’s camp Pyrondi had pulled a toggle – triggering the CT10 to create a slight feedback signal; the CEO’s intercom yielded nothing but static.

“Miriam?” Tubbs called.

Indeed, there was nothing but static then a high-pitched squeal, prompting the man to let go of the button hastily. Both occupants in the office wrinkled their noses. John Tubbs sighed in frustration; there was nothing in his office Rick Haines could get his hands on, all his cabinets were locked, and his laptop was stowed in his desk – also locked.

“Wait here, I’m going to tell my secretary to contact the head of security. If you behave yourself after you’re done talking to him, he’ll escort you out of the building and that’s that. Otherwise you’ll go to Uptown lockup. Clear?”

“Clear boss.” Rick nodded once, smiling.

The CEO, mildly peeved that he had to get up and _walk_ to speak with his secretary, strode briskly out of his own office. The CT10 watched as Rick Haines immediately got up dug into the duffle bag removing one of the canvases Elinor saw the previous evening from a protective sheath. Rushing over to Improvisation 42 he carefully removed it from its frame, slipping the Yates-created rendition in its place. He shoved the Kandinsky roughly in the sheath and stuffed in in the duffle.

Thrawn hissed, “Be careful.”

“Yeah yeah yeah.” Rick muttered.

“He can hear you!?” Elinor gasped.

“Hi Ellie! Hope you guys don’t mind if I bunk with you on the ship!” Rick chortled.

“Be silent” Thrawn snapped.

She wasn’t entirely sure it was Tubbs coming back or if it was the idea of Rick being near their shared quarters that set him off. Either way Rick needed to close his mouth because the CEO and his security specialists were coming.

The little CT10, picking up the movement first, then the sound. “-said we could lose valuable property. He’s in my office.” Tubbs could be heard outside in the hallway.

“Yes, sir. I’ll speak to him.” And in walked John Tubb’s security chief.

Arton Dizon.

Elinor threw up her arms in utter exasperation. If it was so damn easy to get an Imperial into TES, why the hell did she make Fink and Mark steal zirconium alloy connecting bolts? Why did they make Rick take a Kandinsky from the company’s CEO?

“I have a headache.” She grumbled, “With my luck it’s a brain tumor.”

Thrawn muttered out of the corner of his mouth, “Unlikely.”

Ellie resisted the urge to go out and hack up a small tree with her lightsaber.

“Mr. Haines,” Dizon growled menacingly, “I understand you have within your possession property that belongs to Total Engineering Solutions Incorporated.”

“Yep.”

“Hand it over.”

Rick shrugged and rolled his eyes dramatically – he’d been spending too much time with Fink, Elinor thought. He haughtily grabbed each part he had taken from the downstairs conference room and placed it on the giant desk; a total of ten pieces – mostly examples of gears and pins but there was a high niobium pump cover he managed to swipe during his plunder.

“Is that all?” Tubbs asked, his face growing red with fury.

“Yep, but don’t you think that’s enough?” Rick smirked

_Can’t he just curb his asshole-ness for a few minutes?_

“Now, tell me what the hell you think needs to change and do it without that smirk on your face,” Dizon barked.

Ellie pursed her lips, trying not to smile.

“You need to have a good system of monitoring at the exits. You only have it at the entrances.” Rick scratched the back of his head thoughtfully, “Yeah it’s great if you don’t want someone coming in with a bomb – but let’s be honest, we’re a bunch of lonely engineers that work too much, drink too much coffee and most of us haven’t gotten laid in the last five years. There’s no reason to build a bomb and bring it here, of all places.”

Tubbs looked at him in horrified revulsion.

“No, what you got to worry about is some other company scalping your talent, right? Some other company scalping your customers and your designs too. What better way than to get in good with a couple of us pee-ons; promise the worker bees a bigger hive and they’ll smuggle a little honey out, hm?

Dizon looked at him expressionlessly, “Do you know if this is happening?”

“I don’t think it’s happening now, but I heard that it may have happened in the past.”

“Who!?” Tubbs interjected, “I want to know who! Was it Rachel? That bitch!”

“There’s no conclusive proof, dude. Besides you guys fired her anyways. Can’t say I blame her for taking her bag of tricks elsewhere.”

Elinor’s stomach dropped, she leaned in to whisper into Thrawn’s ear, “Who is he –“

“Who are you talking about?” Tubbs raged.

“Elinor Savona.” Rick looked at him scathingly, “She ended up working for the government after you canned her over making a false statement which didn’t turn out to be a false statement, after all, huh?”

The CEO stopped his rant; stunned, “She had nothing with her, security checked before she was escorted out of the building. Rachel didn’t pick her up either – Tassi made sure of it.”

“She had a near eidetic memory, douche bag.”

Tubbs shook his head, “It doesn’t matter, she doesn’t have anything, and from what I hear she’s un-hirable. Women who go parading around thinking they can do this kind of thing –“ he motioned to the surrounding office “-are only asking to be put in their place.”

Rick grunted a laugh, “Yeah, like your little wifey Rachel, right?”

Tubbs lifted his eyebrows ominously, “They are the fairer sex after all, and Elinor Savona was particularly annoying and sophomoric – the woman was insufferable. No one wanted to deal with her because she was too stupid to understand her place. Women can lead other women. Women don’t lead men and she didn’t understand that. It’s a fact of life and she of course being the way she was had to learn it the hard way. I had to literally beat it into Rachel.”

“Sure. Did she refuse you too like Elinor refused Tassi? Is that the corporate stance?”

“I never asked.” Tubbs sneered, “I don’t usually have to.”

“You’re a real piece of work, dickhead.”

Dizon’s eyes appeared to flash with anger, “Enough of that.”

“Mr. Multon, please escort Mr. Haines out of _my_ building.”

“Yes, sir.”

 

Mr. Multon, or rather Captain Dizon, walked with Rick to the elevator, quietly asking through clenched teeth, “Did you get it?”

“Yep, got it right here.” Rick smiled smugly.

“I wasn’t talking to you,” Dizon shot him a strained look.

A few seconds later a very satisfied smile crept onto the stormtrooper’s face.

There _was_ justice in the universe.

Maybe not for Elinor specifically, but for women coming in her wake; their struggle would hopefully be eased upon their attempt to climb the corporate ladder and cling to a secure normal existence in general.

 

Rick Haines went out to celebrate. He no longer had to work in the morning; there was no reason for him to _not_ have his third tall draft and home was just around the corner.

The familiar jingle of the Channel 11 news played on the TV above the bar as he absently internalized the time – 10PM for the local station to tell the general populace all that ails their small section of the world.

Rick almost giggled with barely contained glee. He wasn’t going to be in this section much longer! He wasn’t even going to be on the world.

He was going on an _adventure_.

“Good evening folks this is Jim Gerioda of Channel 11 News – keeping you informed – we start out tonight with an announcement from within Uptown’s Tech Industry. John F. Tubbs Junior, the Chief Executive Officer of Total Engineering Solutions, resigned earlier today after an audio clip was released anonymously of him making disparaging comments about women and admitting to beating is ex-wife Rachel Gratton Tubbs.

In the video Tubbs can be heard telling two other men that a former female engineer was insufferable, annoying and sophomoric. At one point, Tubbs strongly implied a culture of sexual harassment and a chilled working environment toward women were prevalent at TES.”

Rick felt his stomach drop upon hearing the familiar voice of the CEO as the broadcaster played a portion of the clip.

_“-from what I hear she’s un-hirable. Women who go parading around thinking they can do this kind of thing are only asking to be put in their place.”_

He cringed at hearing his own voice, _“Yeah, like your little wifey Rachel, right?”_

_“They are the fairer sex after all, and Elinor Savona was particularly annoying and sophomoric – the woman was insufferable. No one wanted to deal with her because she was too stupid to understand her place. Women can lead other women. Women don’t lead men and she didn’t understand that. It’s a fact of life and she of course being the way she was had to learn the hard way. I had to literally beat it into Rachel.”_

The audio clip was cut, and the anchor continued, “For more on this story we’ll turn to our correspondent Robert Mills, live outside of the TES offices in Uptown, Robert?”

Rick had long forgotten his Heineken and sat with his mouth hanging open at the bar.

The scene on the TV shifted to a younger man, holding an umbrella, looking completely miserable standing outside in terrible weather just so the camera man could get a good shot of the TES building behind him.

Rick snorted despite his escalating uneasiness.

“That’s right Jim, Tubbs resigned at the behest of the company’s board of directors after the audio recording was released, causing company stock to plummet. John Tubbs Senior, if you recall was instrumental in starting Total Engineering Solutions here in Uptown. John Junior took over the family business upon his passing.

Mr. Tubbs had recently been accused of aggressively competing against Rachel Gratton Tubbs his ex-wife, for business within the greater Uptown area. As our viewers likely recall the Tubbs’ had a very contentious divorce but have since become two separate yet key players in the technical world. Gratton Tubbs’ Office has not returned Channel 11’s request for comment on this matter.”

The screen split between the news anchor sitting in the studio behind the desk and the younger report getting rained on outside in front of a darkened building, “So Robert, I believe you’ve had an opportunity to speak with several of the engineers in the TES offices as they left earlier today. What was their reaction to the news?”

“Well Jim, at the time Mr. Tubbs had not _yet_ made the decision to resign, but the overall feeling from the few engineers I did speak to was that they were not surprised of the prejudiced culture the CEO alluded to and seemed to be a proponent of. One engineer even went so far as to say he actively dissuading female coworkers from trying to take on additional work for fear that they would become targeted. He said there was literally a recovery plan for female colleagues so that if they were targeted, they could be discreetly supported by fellow coworkers.”

Roberts eyebrows rose. “Really?”

“Yeah, Jim, I was really surprised, but the same engineer also said that the Me-Too Movement is gaining some attention in Uptown’s Tech Industry and there’s almost a grass roots effort to push out the older individuals who refuse to acknowledge the wave.”

Jim nodded at appropriate times while the other man made his report - in actuality it looked like he was listening to the daily specials at a French restaurant and doing a marginal job at feigning an understanding of the language and cuisine.

“Indeed, Thank you - Robert Mills for that report. Channel 11 will continue to investigate and keep you informed,” Jim seemed to perk up noticeably, “Next up, our correspondent Tracy Vells goes deep undercover to determine which brand of peanut butter has the most nuts in it – and whether it make a difference. Stay tuned!”

Rick smirked as he continued sipping his beer.

“Huh, son of a bitch. I’m a feminist.”

 

The Grand Admiral had contemplated the move.

George Harding enjoyed flaunting his power and using it to make others do as he wished, whether it was in their interest or not, was immaterial. He craved power over people and entities.

He was extremely arrogant because of this.

Thrawn recalled an instance in which _he_ started taunting Harding during one of his many torture sessions onboard the Chimaera. Harding was livid.

He was also flustered.

When power tipped away from his favor, it destabilized him slightly. The man was able to recover quickly of course, as that too was a powerful skill to have. But there was a brief time during which he was vulnerable, and he _knew_ he was vulnerable.

In war such enemies were eventually defeated by paranoia. Attacking them at a location meant to be secret sent a message:

_You have been found once, you can be found again_.

And using their own resources against them, led them to believe they were helpless.

Thrawn would capitalize on that small amount of time Harding seemed to be ill-adjusted. He would take the fight to the monster in his own enclave using his security against him and demand a surrender before he even had time to consider a defensive strategy.

Of course, if the monster, in its surprise, felt compelled to fight – the Grand Admiral was not in opposition to simply destroying it.

Quite the opposite, in fact…

 

Yermentic didn’t mind getting dressed up; it reminded her of days long gone, when she’d go to the Empire Day Ball. Since being stationed on the Chimaera the ship had only been near Coruscant twice around the time of those festivities.

Yermentic frowned at her image, she was getting too old anyways – menopause was sucking the life out of her and she’d have rather spooned a krayt dragon than ask someone to take her. She went herself and drank like a Mon Calamari with a distended lip. An Ensign from the 74th Task Force spent the evening flirting with her; he was attractive with a firm backside, but it was mildly depressing to note he was young enough to be her son.

Regardless, she’d had a _wonderful_ time.

She wouldn’t be drinking and wouldn’t be handling any handsome Ensigns tonight. The doctor sighed forlornly and rolled-her eyes.

There was a grunt and a grumble from the other side of the divided storage container and Yermentic couldn’t help but snicker at Elinor’s choice of words over the clothes Crissa had picked out for the two of them. The younger woman cursed as she came slinking out wearing a black dress and black heels.

Yermentic batted her eyelashes playfully, “Well, Dr. Savona how did you engineer yourself into _that_?”

Elinor was truly hoping to silence the Imperial with the look she cast, conveying her ill temper at having to wear tiny ridiculous shoes again, but the medic wouldn’t be quieted easily. Tabitha was, after all, the CMO aboard the Chimaera and would often sass the Grand Admiral. There certainly wasn’t much _she_ could do to shut her up.

“I think the better question would be how you’re going to get out of it.” The older woman laughed at the pink spreading into her cheeks, “You may have to have _his_ help.” She good naturedly slapped her own thigh as she howled in mirth. Pyrondi popped her head in, scolded Yermentic for her boisterous laughter (“You sound like a rancor in heat!”) and ushered them both out.

Dizon, Cran, Ovally, Toldera, Wilton, Yates and Tobevoh lined up at the gangway; all dressed in suits. Elinor admired the tasteful cut of the black blazer Yates was wearing and shifted uncomfortably.

Why did she have to be the one to dress up like a Bond girl?

Pyrondi had Athena carefully propped up on her shoulder and she felt a spasm of nervousness over leaving her daughter. She would be fine with Drew and Crissa. Thrawn had taken every step to ensure her safety.

The Lieutenant Commander had enough weaponry stored on the farm to make the federal government nervous, more so if they knew it was _Imperial_ _weaponry_ – three BlasTech E-11s, three DLT-19 heavy rifles, five DH-17s, two thermal detonators and a droideka. All of it for two adults to protect a baby for a few hours.

“Do you think they have enough?” Elinor had asked Thrawn sarcastically feeling herself stiffen in disbelief as she looked at the cache of guns, bombs and machines meant for destruction.

Apparently the Chiss hadn’t understood her cynicism, or maybe he had but chose to ignore it; he produced a third thermal detonator which promptly went back on the work bench after a reproachful look from her.

Pyrondi seemed to sense her uneasiness, “Don’t worry, Elinor. Your brother and I will guard her with our lives.” To accent her confidence she laughed, “She’ll be asleep dreaming of cows by the time you get back.”

Elinor couldn’t help but smile. Athena did love when Drew took her to see the cows, now lazily grazing in the field since their usual home was taken up by another one of Thrawn’s contingency plans. She looked down at her left hand, nodding.

“I know you’ll take good care of her.”

Thrawn strode in briskly, dressed as everyone was, in black, “What are your questions?”

Toldera cleared his throat, “What are the team divisions, sir?”

The Grand Admiral’s red eyes shifted, “Major Cran, Captain Dizon and Lieutenant Commander Tobevoh will enter in the front with Dr. Savona. Lieutenant Commanders Yates and Wilton will aid Doctor Yermentic with our distraction from the museum side – Dr. Yermentic you are aware of which canvas to be used? –“

She nodded.

“Good. Lieutenants Toldera and Ovally will remain with myself in the alley to the east of the building.”

A voice, low and quiet seemed to disengage itself from the darkness under the ramp, “I’m coming too.”

All heads turned; all except for that of the Grand Admiral who continued to gaze at the floor plans of the building on a tablet.

“Ezra?”

“I’m coming too,” the young Jedi reiterated.

She glanced up at Thrawn; watched his jaw muscles tighten.

Elinor had no illusions about his intensions, if the Chiss was able to gain access to Harding and get within reach of him, there was no doubt in her mind, he would likely try to kill the man. Ezra Bridger was not a killer. He would not go along with it and would probably try to dissuade Thrawn from committing the act or simply stop him when the attempt was made.

As honorable as the Jedi creed was to think that all life was sacred; Martin Tassi, now George Harding had committed high crimes and he’d made the mistake of threatening an Imperial Grand Admiral – not a good life choice for longevity.

She hesitantly reached out to Ezra and was immediately surprised to find resolute, stoic solidarity in the Imperial’s decision. Elinor blinked in surprise and gasped. The young man looked at her sadly; aging before her very eyes with the choices required of him.

“I think it would be a good idea if you did.” Her voice was raspy from disuse and the proclamation sounded tentative, half expecting a vociferous challenge. She was met with none.

Thrawn studied the young Jedi evenly through narrowed eyes, “Very well Bridger, you will stay in the alley with myself and Lieutenants Toldera and Ovally.”

Ezra bobbed his head and adjusted his lightsaber on his belt, reminding Elinor that hers was safety stowed in a small but fashionable clutch – suitable for someone going out to dinner at a fine eating establishment.

She had tried to fit the third thermal detonator in the damn thing, but it was either it or the lightsaber.

She chose the lightsaber.

 

He was right where he said he would be – in the ally. She smiled.

“Mike?”

“Hey beautiful girl – Whoa look at you! Dressed to the nines!”

She snorted, “Thanks. Are you still up to this?” Elinor looked at him worriedly.

“I sure am. Just tell me where and when!”

 

Yermentic had seen wealthy people before – from afar of course, she’d never met any of them. She had observed enough that she could successfully emulate their behavior.

And so, she did.

She had Wilton carry the case for her and Yates stand behind and to her left holding a tablet; her mannerisms consistent with that of an employee. Wilton was also playing his role well, but he was required to be slightly more threatening as he was meant to deter a would-be attacker from a wealthy client – in this case a middle-aged woman with more money than brains.

Yates did step forward though, when they arrived at the front desk, “We have an appointment with the Head Curator at 7 o’clock.”

“I’m sorry Miss, the museum closes at 7 o’clock.”

Yates smiled politely, “I’m aware, however Mr. White had expressed an interest in a potential acquisition.”

The man behind the desk, nodded slowly understanding dawning on him – wealthy people brought in expensive things after hours to have appraisals done.

“Of course, Miss. May I inquire your name so that I may inform Mr. White of your presence?”

“You may tell him Gloria Tusar is here to speak with him.” Yermentic shot Yates a bored look; the other woman did well by stepping back submissively and nodding.

“Of course, madam. Please feel free to enter the gallery at your pleasure while I inform Mr. White of your arrival.”

 

Dizon, Cran and Tobevoh watched as she made her way back around after speaking with the homeless man. Tobevoh placed one of his blasters in the holster, pressing it up against his ribs on his right side. Cran grumbled about being hungry, Tobevoh nodded glumly.

Dizon side-eyed the two and opened the glove compartment. The stormtrooper Captain had learned the fine art of surveillance from Cran and taken the Major’s grudgingly bestowed- advice – inside the tiny box was a family size bag of beef jerky.

He opened the packaging, made a point of inhaling the smell of preserved animal product; sighing in appreciation, he gripped a wad of leather-like meat and shoved it into his smirking face. He began chewing as Tobevoh studied the bag with pained interest.

Cran hid his tight smile, “Idiots.”

 

The U-Haul was parked next to the alley near the intersection of 3rd and Providence Avenue. During the work week, the area was quiet; there were few distractions to be had if you needed to get up and go back into the office the next day unless of course, you were there for business to begin with. Providence Ave was considered Uptown’s posh art district and catered to either the wealthy or the business elite.

A truck meant to move large pieces of equipment or furniture was an unsightly thing – it’s presence would be looked at with disdain and embarrassment. The crust of those traveling the area or residing in it would be too horrified at its existence in their neighborhood to consider calling the local authorities over an illegally parked U-Haul – no, that was not their job – let the police do their own work!

Besides, calls regarding it would require one to acknowledge the unpleasant thing was sitting there to begin with – a concept that reminded many of the 3rd Street/Providence Ave residents and patrons that something other than their own superior world extended beyond the confines of their comfortable orbit.

This was where the Grand Admiral would make his stand.

 

Mr. White was attentive and aptly remorseful for his tardiness but there was no hiding the absolute delight in his eyes upon seeing Wassily Kandinsky’s work so beautifully displayed. Indeed, Improvisation 42 was looked upon with such appreciation, Yermentic felt badly for the man.

He and Thrawn could probably debate the meaning of the black line in the middle for hours.

She pursed her lips to avoid the bemused smile from showing, it only made Gloria Tusar look unhappy, which made Mr. White nervous – if he played his cards right, he could show case a new Kandinsky by the end of the week…he watched as her assistant carefully placed the piece back into its protective sheath and box.

“Ms. Tusar, I do again apologize for my lateness and I _must_ say this piece is absolutely magnificent.”

“Thank you, Mr. White.”

“If you don’t mind the inquiry ma’am, what were your intensions with the artwork?” He knew if he looked any more hopeful, he’d be holding out both his hands, mimicking Oliver Twist.

The woman seemed to sense his hopefulness, “Actually, Mr. White, I was hoping you could help me.”

“Of course, Ms. Tusar!”

“I am an avid consumer of art and history and it was the dearest wish of my late husband that this and some of our other pieces be provided to museums and galleries for _others_ to enjoy as we had.” Tabitha looked over at the curator meaningfully, “I believe Improvisation 42 would look lovely here, would you not agree, Mr. White?”

“I must admit I was hoping you would come to that very same conclusion!” he chimed.

Gloria Tusar smiled kindly, “Then it is settled, at least for me. The painting should now be displayed in Uptown Royalties Art Museum.”

The little man sighed in quiet relief – a new Kandinsky for the Expressionism team to fawn over.

_Perfect!_

He would of course, need to call in one of the restorationists to clean it, but its authenticity was without question. The aristocratic woman requesting her assistant help her with the painting interrupted his mental task managing.

“Ms. Yates, would you help me with this?” the older woman asked.

The younger women; shorter wearing a suit rushed to her side, “Of course, ma’am.”

Her bodyguard also moved closer to help her undo the latch on the box where the woman – Ms. Yates – had returned it upon his completed assessment of the piece. Carefully Gloria Tusar pulled the sheath out again – Kandinsky’s abstract exploitation of color and lines was again within view, but briefly prior to the widow offering the carrying strap of the sheath to Mr. White.

“Now, Mr. White, I wish to do one last thing before I leave here tonight.” Yermentic put a slight edge to her voice.

“Oh, how can I help, Ms. Tusar?”

“I wish to make a sizable donation to your museum.” She batted her eyes tiredly as if to say “but let’s make it quick”.

“Thank you kindly, madam! You are indeed a friend to the museum! May I ask, is there a particular department you would like the funds to go toward?”

“Yes,” Yermentic cringed internally, “Your restoration department.”

_They’ll be needing it after tonight._

 

Cran, Dizon, Tobevoh and Elinor sat in the SUV waiting. Tobevoh had set up comm feeds for the groups so they could hear Yermentic chitchat gayly with the museum curator and Thrawn order Ovally to stun Ezra Bridger if he asked once more if the plan the Grand Admiral had created would work.

Elinor laugh with the other three – the CMO was having fun looking at art and the Chiss was miserable because he was stuck in a U-Haul with an over-anxious teenager.

“Where did you get a sizeable donation for art restoration?” Elinor shot Cran a look

_Do I really want to know this?_

He grinned knowingly, “More ill-gotten gains, ma’am.”

She pursed her lips and cocked her head at him until he shrugged, “Apparently John Tubbs the former CEO of TES has a heavy wallet; we relieved him of some of his…burden.”

Elinor, try as she may, could not keep a straight face; feeling it melt in a horrified astonishment.

“You people are _unbelievable_!”

“What?” Cran snorted, “Like you’re _surprised_?”

She opened her mouth to respond but a crackle came from the comm.

Yermentic’s voice was adrenaline-laced relief, “We’re out. CT in the museum going live…now.”

“-believe it! We just got a Kandinsky! It’s an Improvisation. We’ll need it cleaned.” Mr. White was on the phone and walking excitedly around what appeared to be the back administrative offices.

“…Yes, that’s fine. Thursday will be fine, but I want it on display by next week. Something tells me this woman has more toys in her toy box that she’s willing to give away!”

“…No. A wealthy widow named Gloria Tusar. Nice lady too, she even gave us 10K for restoration!”

“…I know! It’s like Christmas, speaking of which, I need to get out of here. My wife already thinks I’m cheating on her with _you_ so, I’ve put the piece in Stall 12. When you come in tomorrow start doing your assessment, I’ll be in as soon as I can.”

“…Oh?....Really? Terry is on tonight, I’ll let him know. Thanks. Mm-bye”

He rushed around grabbing a brief case and several papers from a desk, walking swiftly to the front he caught the security guard’s eye, “Hey Terry – the home team is in town tonight.”

The man chuckled, “Yes, sir! Got my bets already placed.”

“Be careful some of the kids are stupid and might decide it would be fun to throw a brink at a window.”

“No problems, John. Tell your wife I said hi!”

Little did John or Terry know that residing in Stall 12 of the vault was not Improvisation 42 but rather Lieutenant Commander Yates’s _interpretation_ of Kandinsky’s painted poetry.

Attached to the artwork’s protective sheath was a small string of pyro-chord disguised as a decorative embellishment on the container. The “switch” below it would give one pause, only if they were familiar with Imperial technology, otherwise it would simply appear as an additional ornate feature on a box containing an expensive piece of art.

And now it was time.

The tension in the SUV was palpable and Elinor uncrossed and re-crossed her legs. The back door of the SUV opened to Yermentic, and Yates. Both women climbed into the back seat behind Elinor and Tobevoh while Wilton placed the carrying case (with the real Improvisation 42 still in it) into the trunk, then slid in behind Yates and Yermentic looking smug.

“You sure you gave him the correct painting, right doc?” Dizon cajoled a smile out of Yermentic despite her obvious apprehension.

The comm crackled again, this time it was Thrawn, “Elinor?”

She dipped down to open the door of the SUV, stepping out into the night air which had become thick and humid. She adjusted her dress and walked toward the alley way. Cautiously she peeked around the corner.

“Mike?”

“Hey lady, you decided where you want me?”

She grinned and bobbed her head, “Yes, but I have to ask - how do you feel about heart attacks?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!
> 
> Just wanted to point out what Thrawn perceives Harding's weakness to be...interesting, yes?
> 
> Also, Ellie just couldn't get that third thermal detonator in her purse (damn girl go shopping and get a bigger bag!) 
> 
> Remember previous thought experiment...what would happen if Thrawn didn't get things exactly right?
> 
> Stay tuned....


	55. The Vogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning:  
> None
> 
> In This Chapter:  
> Klary arrives and sets a trap for Thrawn...on the off chance he survives the night.  
> Multiple distractions coupled with rich people and their sense of entitlement.  
> Update in the elevator - on the way to the Chateau.  
> Sonic the Murder Machine kills a CT: Hint it wasn't a nanny cam.  
> Thrawn's plan got trashed, Ezra to provide the finesse  
> "Something's not right."

 

She stepped out of the shuttle onto the launch pad spread out in the wooded area where their transport site had been set up to ship daily supplies. The Chimaera’s need was not as insatiable as it once had been when the ship’s Head Engineer had put in multiple requests every other day for raw materials to support the massive ship’s repair efforts. Still, Imperials needed to eat, and so foodstuffs were brought up to the ship every planetary rotation.

The Commander would likely have to fill the coffers once the Chimaera was unlocked and ready for travel; until that time, it was pointless to give up the daily trips to the surface. They kept the stormtrooper units happily active and they served as a reminder to Thrawn and his small band of supporters that Klary still had the upper hand. A continuous, repetitive presence was the Commander’s not-so-subtle way of keeping pressure on the Grand Admiral.

Even men like Thrawn made mistakes. If Harding was to be believed, the Grand Admiral would make his very soon…

Agent Whittland had given her a recent update. Crissa Pyrondi was apparently ready for trouble, which would be problematic if it hadn’t been for her lovely fall-back plan; something Klary would be happy to exploit. It would also allow the Chimaera’s TIE pilots a little fun; as there had been a contingent strongly in her favor and she owed them a reprieve.

After all, the cure for restlessness was to get out and _shoot_ something.

Klary chuckled.

As she marched down the shuttle ramp, she watched the other troop transport descend, its bay doors opening upon its final landing. Inside was the Chimaera’s last AT-ST walker.

Engineering had to retrofit some of the links and servos in the legs; Dalen Tela had to hot wire the cockpit together after Elinor Savona picked it clean during her tenure. Although not ideal, the walker would do its job, she would only hope Harding would do his.

One of the scout troopers approached her, appropriately cautious – word of her temper had disseminated through the ranks.

“Ma’am, scouts came back and confirmed the second shuttle is about 40 kilometers to the north east and by the look of it, it’s being retrofitted to look like the Chimaera’s second Lambda.”

She grinned.

Harding had finally told her the truth.

“Orders ma’am?” the trooper asked shifting uncomfortably.

“Leave it, pull back. Don’t disturb it or the surrounding area. And make sure to leave _our_ Lambda at the launch site after we’re done here.”

_A nice little trap for the Grand Admiral if he somehow manages to survive the night._

“Uh, yes ma’am.” The scout said slowly.

To his credit he didn’t question her.

_Smart man._

No, Klary’s plan would be much more gratifying; if the Grand Admiral finally did crawl out from under his rock, it would be so much easier to blow him out of the sky.

Harding probably sensed her anticipation because her comm beeped.

“Klary.” She answered coolly, not wholly thrilled with having her satisfaction terminated so abruptly and by the mental intrusion of her _friend_.

“Ah Commander! Welcome to Earth. You’re in position?”

“I’ve just arrived, yes.” She growled.

She could almost see his playful leer, “Good. So, have my guests. I suggest you tread carefully in making your acquisition. Your game clock starts _now_.”

Without another word her _friend_ dropped the comm line and was gone. She was on her own, which is really where she preferred to be anyways. Klary motioned for the stormtrooper Captain, TL-7903

“Move out. _Now_.” She ordered.

“Yes, ma’am”

Someday very soon she wouldn’t need her _friend_.

 

The two guards in the Vogue were not rent-a-cops, but very well-trained security personnel that performed exactly as they should have during the event. First the hobo entered the glass “kill box” as they jokingly called it – a foyer into the lobby.

It was unusual because normally that sort of riff-raff knew to keep away, but the homeless man was in obvious distress complaining of chest and arm pain. At one point he cried out sharply and clutched at his own throat, gasping.

“We’ve got to call this in – he could be having a heart attack!”

“Right, I’ll –“ just as the second guard stood to respond, four people walked into the kill box. ”-call it in at the desk.”

The second guard looked dispassionately at the group of four – three men and one woman – “Can I help you?”

“We have a reservation at the Chateau,” the oldest man in the group said.

“Right, follow me.” The second guard buzzed them in and led the group away from his counterpart who remained with the incapacitated unkempt vagabond near the front door. They entered the central hub where the building steward’s desk jutted up against the bay of elevators in a design that was neither aesthetically pleasing nor expedient in any way.

The third guard was at the desk already on the phone with emergency response personnel, while the second guard opened the dining room attendant’s book to request confirmation of reservation information.

Ironically, they smelled the smoke before they heard the alarm.

“What’s that?” the third guard sniffed.

“Smells like burning rubber.” The second hedged.

The four guests sniffed tentatively at the air; the woman made a pained face. Then there was the alarm – it was muted, as it was in the building next door to the Vogue, but the phone system at the steward’s desk began to light-up, indicating a plethora of incoming calls from external lines.

“Ah shit.”

“Yeah –“the second guard sighed “-you got that Al?”

“Yeah. You gunna do the walk down?” the third guard – Al, asked.

“Yep on my way.”

“Excuse me?” one of the guests cleared their throat meaningfully.

_Damn rich people and their damn sense of entitlement._

The second guard shook his head in annoyance, keyed his identification card, scanned his retina near the elevator bay and ushered the group forward, “Go on up, the maître d will confirm your identification and reservation, sir.”

“Thank you.”

 

After the small party entered the elevator and the doors closed, Elinor opened the line, and asked the obvious question, over the scratching and scrapping in their ears, “We’re past downstairs security and we’re in the elevator; the distractions worked. How’d it go?”

The smooth suave voice came over their ear pieces, “The extensive damage will be restricted to the Lieutenant Commander’s masterpiece. All other artwork will require some restoration but there will be no permanent damage.” His voice was dripping with satisfaction.

“What’s _your_ status, sir?” Cran asked.

There was a pause, “We are comfortable.”

She thought she heard Ezra in the background, there was a thump and then, “I will inform you when we are near.”

“Yes sir.”

 

Drew shifted on the couch eyeing the rolled-up pile of metal in the corner of his living room. The damn thing scared the shit out of him when Thrawn and Ellie showed it to him the first time…and the second time, for that matter.

It was like Sonic the Hedgehog.

One of his friends in high school had a Saga Genesis which was the epitome of wealth in the backwoods – he’d watch Ed play for hours – apparently, he’d played so often and gotten so good at the game he never died…that is, until he started to drink his dad’s beer.

Then Drew would finally get a turn to play and yes, if he’d had the controller in his hand he’d swear – with a little blue paint to the thing in the corner – he could hear the catchy game music in his head.

He grumbled.

This wasn’t a game though.

And the curled pile of metal sitting fifteen feet away, wasn’t a humanized porcupine-like mammal, but a machine capable of spewing death and destruction.

He looked down at the sleeping baby in his arms. If someone really wanted to hurt something so delicate, someone so obviously innocent in all of this, then Sonic the Murder Machine could stay.

Crissa had been concerned though; Athena was acting strangely. Normally she didn’t cry too much but she was wailing when Elinor and the others left, fat little tears sliding down her blue cheeks.

His sister had told him at one point that Thrawn was amazed over the concept of adult beings that wept, due to the physical restrictions of his species. Apparently only Chiss children cried; adults were physiologically incapable of it since their tear ducts dried out upon reaching puberty. They could only guess how Athena’s tears would evolve as she aged.

The bit of information had made him think better of the alien. Perhaps he was just bodily incapable of acting like he had a beating heart, but something had obviously changed between the two because Elinor seemed happier; more at ease.

_Trust._

It was nice to have that, and Drew felt like he was getting it with Crissa Pyrondi. He liked her; really liked her. He’d even go so far as to say he was _in love_ with her, but his mind shied away from it out of plain old-fashion terror. If things went south like they did with Miranda…

And here he was always telling Ellie not to be afraid.

_Damn hypocrite._

The object of his hypocrisy stepped carefully into the living room and within a fraction of a second Sonic the Murder Machine unfurled itself and pointed its double barrels at her.

“Athena Eight Nine.” She called in a clear voice.

Far clearer than Drew’s would have been had the thing done that to him.

Sonic rolled itself back into its I’m-nothing-more-than-abstract-wall-art position and waited. He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding; it rattled in his chest as it was released.

“The perimeter is clear.”

“Good ta know.” He grunted, “Me an’ Sonic here ‘ve just been watchin’ th’ baby sleep.”

“Good to know.” Crissa smiled.

“They gunna give us a call an’ let us know when they’re gunna be comin’ back?”

“The Grand Admiral said he would keep me informed.”

“So how long have ya –“

Suddenly Pyrondi silenced him with a hand and a look that he’d never seen in her before. It was a terrifying expression; he had to remind himself that the woman in his living room was an officer in an alien military. She had probably killed people before; the thought was unsettling and based on the hardness in her face, she was preparing to do it again, very soon.

“We need to move. _Now_.” She said lowly as she drew out her holstered gun.

“Alright, we takin’ Sonic?”

“Yes.”

“Where we goin’?” he asked suddenly uncertain.

This stopped her in her tracks – she didn’t know exactly where to go and was obviously cursing herself for not having a fall-back location set aside. In actuality they weren’t really expecting trouble though… _were they_?

Crissa gritted her teeth, suddenly turning to Sonic, “Droideka, mark target.”

The monstrous thing uncurled itself yet again and raised its two arms, weapons at the ready waiting for an order.

“Mark CT-10.”

Suddenly the droideka turned, pointed both weapons to the ceiling and fired.

Drew yelled – his house had suffered greatly since the damn Imperials had come traipsing into his life – there was a small secondary burst of light and sound as if the blasts that had emanated from the machine had hit some electronic equipment or wall panel and caused a spark.

Athena startled awake; looking around petulantly for the disturbance that had roused her from her sleep; making a face at all the new stimuli entering her awareness – namely the smell. Drew wrinkled his nose at the burning electronics and ozone - there wasn’t supposed to be anything in the ceiling – no electrical lines or boxes; nothing that would cause such a reaction.

But there had been.

Pyrondi walked over to a singed portion of the ceiling that had fallen to the floor. She kicked a metal shard with her boot; squatting down to nudge it with the tip of her blaster, swearing furiously after inspecting it closer. Athena began wailing.

“Someone’s been watching.” She spat.

“Who?” Drew demanded.

“I don’t know – but I don’t think it’s us, and I don’t dare call Thrawn to ask. He would have told me if he was.”

“Welp, if he was watchin’ an’ it suddenly went dark, he’d try an’ call right?” Drew asked cautiously.

She bobbed her head still looking at the remains of the CT10.

“An’ if he dunt call?”

“Then we may just have company coming.”

 

Ezra had been in uncomfortable conditions before but pressed inside a trash dumpster with three Imperials – one being Grand Admiral Thrawn was rocketing to the top of his list of unfortunate situations he managed to find himself.

For starters he had Toldera’s boot in his face – or he thought it was Toldera’s. And Ovally’s elbow in his ribs.

Thrawn, as usual, was completely unruffled over the ordeal; maybe there was a little embarrassment on his part over his failure to anticipate the authority’s response to the alarms in the museum.

Once the Chiss had triggered the make-shift device on the painting, and every siren in the building had gone off indicating something was amiss; the Grand Admiral believed the group would have enough time to dash from their hiding spot in the U-Haul to an access door in the side of the building. At which point they would gimmick the door, probably through brute force – via blaster or lightsaber depending on how patient Thrawn was at that time – and enter the Vogue through the electrical utility rooms.

That _had_ been the plan.

But the Grand Admiral had miscalculated the response time of the police and fire department; an oversight he mentally shook his head over.

The authorities would of course respond faster to a fire on Providence Ave than they would in, say the Wearhouse District; the fire and police chiefs were heavily politicized titles and there were certainly more wealthy donors on 3rd Street and Providence Avenue than in the entirety of the Wearhouse District.

Thrawn had accounted for this.

What he did not account for was the local team being in town.

Uptown’s finest always had a presence near the stadium during home games. This was a common-sense preventative measure; a means to dissuade crime in the city. If one of the visiting teams lost – or worse – one of the Uptown teams didn’t win, there could be hooliganism. Furthermore, the stupidity of young hot-blooded men consuming disturbing amounts of alcohol and screaming for people to kill each other was never a good recipe for civility.

The extreme haste in which the trucks with flashing lights descended upon the scene resulted in the group flinging themselves into a dumpster in the alley way. Ezra had made the observation that he, Ovally and Toldera could go out and assess the situation – after all they didn’t really _need_ to hide – Thrawn could stay hidden in the dumpster.

This resulted in the elbow near his ribs to swing inward, painfully jabbing him as the comm line suddenly buzzed in all their ears. The Grand Admiral opened it with a tap at the receiver clipped to his belt.

“We’re past downstairs security and we’re in the elevator; the distractions worked. How’d it go?” Elinor’s voice was clear but there was an edge of nervousness to it.

“The extensive damage will be restricted to the Lieutenant Commander’s masterpiece. All other artwork will require some restoration but there will be no permanent damage.”

Major Cran’s voice rumbled in their ears next, “What’s _your_ status sir?”

Ezra could see the Chiss grimace, “We are comfortable.”

“Yeah, _you’re_ comfortable.” Ezra muttered under his breath.

The elbow jabbed him again causing him to jump and hit his head on the lid of the trash bin.

Thrawn gave him a withering look, “I will inform you when we are near.” He told the others.

“Yes sir.”

The comm line went dead and the Grand Admiral tapped the receiver again. He looked thoughtfully at the young Jedi.

“Bridger?”

Ezra couldn’t help rolling his eyes. This was the part where the Chiss asked him a question he was going to find difficult to answer and if he gave the Imperial a response not to his liking, he’d lift him up by his throat and throw him around like a bag of treats for a Loth-cat.

“Yeah?”

“Given the close proximity of this container to the building, would you be able to cut through both it and the wall behind it?

Ezra peeked over a large bag of rubbish, “I don’t see why not.”

“Excellent. Discreetly begin doing so.”

_Discreetly? How do you inconspicuously use a lightsaber to saw through a building?_

Noting his confused incredulity Thrawn smiled slightly, “Lieutenant Ovally, Lieutenant Toldera, please provide our young Jedi visual concurrence.”

There were dual, ‘yes, sirs’ as the other two Imperials cracked the lid to peek out on either side of the bin; Ezra nodded in understanding. It may take a while with several small, sudden cuts in which he’d have to quickly activate and deactivate the blade, but he’d be able to eventually punch his way through.

They began.

 

She shifted from one foot to the other immediately before the doors to the elevator opened. Elinor caught her breath. The natural vista was familiar, with its indoor waterfall; the windows on either side made her feel exposed and although she couldn’t see it, she knew there would be a koi pond nestled up against the rocks with exotic blooms nearby.

The scene was painfully familiar – Harding had dug into her mind sending her into a panicked spiral and prompting a subtle level of mistrust to permeate her relationship with those closest to her. Cran, Dizon and Tobevoh instantly noticed her hesitation and casually shifted, making it easier to pull out their hidden blasters. She surreptitiously touched the comm connection; imbedded in the clutch holding her lightsaber, further setting the men around her on alert.

“Something’s not right.”

In her ear she heard the hiss of a lightsaber and a loud metallic clank;

Thrawn’s voice, “Move.” Meant for someone else…

Then “We are in the building. What is wrong?”

Before she could respond; try to explain the uneasiness and the nauseating feeling in the pit of her stomach, a man in a tuxedo approached the group.

“Good evening, madam, gentlemen welcome to the Chateau” his accent was British and would have been soothing had it not been for the déjà vu, “My name is Oliver York and I am the maître d’. I regret to inform you that this establishment is closed for a private event unless of course you are here at the host’s request.”

Elinor shot a furtive look at Dizon who moved closer to her.

“You have forgotten your invitations.” Thrawn whispered in their ears.

“We unfortunately forgot our invitations.” Cran rumbled.

Elinor was thankful it was the Major to speak; she was certain she wouldn’t be able to pull the words out without having her voice crack. She inhaled shakily.

“But of course, may I take your names.” Mr. York smiled understandingly.

“Savona.” Thrawn whispered again.

Her eyes widened and she jerked; what was the Grand Admiral thinking? She almost asked out loud until Cran obeyed the command without question, his voice clear and calm.

“Of course, one moment please.”

With that, the maître ‘d left them standing in the vestibule; the entire restaurant was empty except for a small cluster of people cloaked in shadows, near the indoor garden.

“What are you _doing_?” Elinor whispered frantically

“We are almost there” Thrawn’s voice sounded stretched.

“How did you get by security?” she growled.

“I cut up underneath the elevator bay.” Ezra sounded smug.

Cran chuckled and she gritted her teeth. They couldn’t have figured all this out beforehand instead of her having to wear the stupid torture devices on her feet?

_Necessity is the mother of invention._

Her ire was interrupted by Oliver York’s return, “I apologize Doctor Savona. –“

_Doctor! How did he know -?_

“- I didn’t know you were the guest of honor. If you would please follow me.”

Elinor gasped, and Cran, Dizon and Tobevoh immediately drew their blasters forming a protective circle around her, she heard Thrawn hiss in her ear and the snap hiss of Ezra’s lightsaber.

“He knew we were coming.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi...
> 
> Yep, Thrawn screwed up. 
> 
> After Elinor and Harding had their last round of mental warfare - Harding developed that sort of "immunity" to her - he's better at hiding from her. 
> 
> My thoughts with this were that Thrawn was counting on Elinor to warn him if something weird was going on because she and Harding had that strange Force connection...but...
> 
> It may be that Thrawn also underestimated someone else too...It's gunna be a rough night for the Grand Admiral.
> 
> I also thought about this too: Why not trigger the explosive to go off while they were nestled up against the building and ready to elbow their way in. I logic-ed my way out of that - thinking perhaps if the alarm went off, people moving quickly away from the museum (toward the Vogue) would make sense and would attract less attention. The alarm caused by them breaking into the Vogue at the backend would be swallowed up by the multiple bells and whistles and distractions (i.e. annoying rich people, homeless man having a heartache, etc.) going on elsewhere.  
> Weak.  
> I know.  
> It's all I got. My brain is swiss cheese after all this!!!


	56. Parley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning:  
> Violence
> 
> In This Chapter:  
> Four TIEs  
> I will not turn into a monster!...You can't stop it, Elinor!  
> Drew didn't tell Crissa...  
> Enemies shielded  
> Subconscious warfare, hours of torture; a second in reality.  
> Flight of the last Defender  
> Three battle fronts  
> One down, two to go  
> Drew sees the destructive power of an AT-ST.  
> Lost opportunity; lost lightsaber.

 

The Commander received her _friend’s_ message.

Keying her comm, she signaled to the Chimaera – four TIEs at the ready.

Yes, even with the targets on heightened alert, there was no way they could wiggle their way out of this.

_It was time._

 

The man led them to the small group – there were seven of them total. Six men were standing; most of them were burly with the physique of football players but their body stance indicated they hadn’t been hit in the head nearly enough times to be linebackers.

They were obviously dangerous and intended to convey that fact; wearing black suits they crossed their arms over their broad chests to display their muscles – a not-so-veiled threat to the approaching party.

The other man was seated he was slightly turned away from Elinor, but she didn’t need to see his face; she felt the sickening presence of him as she grew nearer, like a terrible smell or the residual feeling of nails clawing at a chalk board.

George Harding.

She inhaled deeply, calming herself; preparing her defenses. She had taken the lightsaber out of the tiny purse she carried and held it at her side. The Imperials with her had their weapons out, making it very clear that the linebackers behind Harding were not to make any sudden moves lest they suffer second- and third-degree burns.

“Ah,” the voice always provoked the same physical reaction; nausea, a sense of helplessness, “Elinor, I’m so glad you could come!”

She said nothing, merely staring at him balefully.

His gaze shifted to the maître ‘d, “Thank you, Oliver. You may take the rest of the night off.”

“Very good, sir.”

The man left, immediately without another word and Harding’s eyes flicked back to her; he smiled wickedly.

“How’s your daughter?”

She continued to gaze at him, then sensing he was very near she began to push slightly. Thrawn strode in briskly and every gun in the place flew up or out.

“Now, now. That’s no way to treat our guests,” he chided the men behind him with a chuckle. “My apologies, I didn’t introduce my staff.”

Slowly blasters were slightly lowered on both sides of the table.

He gestured to a slightly thinner man over his left shoulder, “This is Boris, I believe you knew his brother – Yuri Gornovek. He was looking forward to meeting you and…of course the Grand Admiral.”

Harding’s lip curled up in a cruel smile, “Boris was quite amused when I regaled him with tales of our interviews.”

Thrawn’s face remained passive but Elinor caught the slight flicker of emotion. She shielded his response from the man seated across the table and Harding frowned

“Please sit, we have much to discuss.”

Thrawn moved toward the table only to be stopped in mid-step, “No, not you –“ he pointed at her, “Elinor.”

“No. You will deal directly with me _or_ there will be no discussion.”

Again, the movement and click of blasters being raised.

What _exactly_ were they discussing? The whole point of this was to take the fight to Harding – weren’t they just going to _kill_ him, after all, the man was evil?

She felt immediately guilty for her line of thinking and her eyes shifted to Ezra; he was too focused on what was going on in front of him to catch her stray thoughts, but by Harding’s response _he_ had latched on to them.

“I think Elinor would be a worthy discussion _partner_. She’s the one who wants to kill me the most.” He grinned.

Whether it was the man’s insistence or his emphasis on the word _partner_ that irritated the Chiss, she didn’t know but Thrawn hissed and she found herself pressing a warning hand against his shoulder as trigger fingers twitched uncomfortably.

“It’s ok, I’ll be alright.” She whispered to him.

He asked her with his eyes to reconsider but she shook her head, “Let me do this.”

The Grand Admiral had not anticipated this; should have prepared her better. Reluctantly he nodded but silently promised himself he would step in and put a blaster bolt between the man’s eyes if he attempted any hostile action toward her; be it physical or mental.

Elinor sat down and seemed to transform; she was calm and cool, almost serene.

“Now, Elinor tell me…what do _you_ want?” Harding began.

She raised her eyebrows, “I’d like you to leave us the hell alone.”

He laughed, “Ah always so blunt. I do enjoy that about you.”

Her lips twisted in distaste.

“What if I were to give you the power to _make_ me leave you alone.”

The boy standing to her left shift uncomfortably and she turned her head slightly, pausing as if silently communicating with him, “I’d tell you to crawl into a hole and die.”

He cocked his head in acquiescence “Fair enough, but _don’t_ disregard the power you have at your disposal” he looked at the Jedi and then back at her, “the boy can’t provide you what you need. He doesn’t understand you.”

“And I suppose _you_ do?” she moved her hand, and a flicker of light caught something on her hand.

Harding grimaced at the sight of a ring on her left hand, “I do.”

She shook her head, “You’re wrong Harding. You’re going to help us take back the Chimaera – tell your puppet Klary to stand down. Then you’re going to leave us alone.”

Elinor started to push, slowly at first, then by the time she finished her demands she was leaning on him, hard. And it showed in his face.

“You _are_ exquisite.” He marveled. “All that power! Can you imagine?”

“I don’t care. I’ll repeat - you’ll help us take back the Chimaera – smuggle us aboard if you have to - since you’re friends with Klary and then you’ll leave us alone – _all_ of us.”

She pushed harder. Not as hard as she could since she didn’t want to show him her full capability, but it was enough to make him wince.

She felt a pang of pleasure at his response and then an immediate stab of concern over the warped emotion. Harding picked up on it.

“We are _gods_ , Elinor – you and I – you have such power, let me help you _use_ it.”

“You’re a sick bastard.”

She continued to push; suddenly he pushed back then dodged, inserting a vision into her mind.

The blue green of the world was below her – a view of Earth from the bridge of the Chimaera; she knew deep inside that every living soul on the planet was _hers_ to do with as _she_ wanted. They were no match for someone like _her_ – her intelligence and her power – she would rise, they would bow, and the whole world would do what _she_ wanted.

She staggered back, sick with self-loathing and despair. She had to run; had to hide.

_I will not turn into a monster!_

_You can’t stop it, Elinor!_

“NO!” she fell out of the chair and the room descended into blaster fire and chaos.

 

Drew had put Athena in what he had sarcastically called “The Bag” – a sling he could wear on his back to haul her around in while he busied himself preparing for all hell to break loose. After fifteen minutes of comm silence from Thrawn and Ellie, Crissa was certain the little flying surveillance machine Sonic had blown to bits was _not_ a nanny cam.

The Lieutenant Commander was expecting trouble and had Drew turn off all the lights in the house; the only illumination came from the faint glow of the readied droideka.

He had a DLT-19 at the ready with an E-11 propped up against the wall near his hiding spot in the corner. She had an E-11 in hand a few DH-17s scattered at her feet; she was positioned in the other corner directly across from him, eyeing him through the darkness.

He heard it; a crying sort of cutting noise unlike anything he’d ever heard. Pyrondi cursed and keyed her comm – obviously the sound was enough to spook her into calling the Grand Admiral.

_She must be desperate_.

“Wha?” he hissed across the room, keeping his voice down to a whisper, “Wha’s goin’ on?”

She shushed him, waiting for some sort of response from the comm; her face rigid with worry and frustration.

_This is bad._

Drew adjusted the bag on his back, careful to keep his niece comfortable enough so she wouldn’t made too much sound, and possibly give away their location.

“Nothing.” She hissed, “They’re jamming us!”

_This is really bad._

“Wha’s tha’ sound?”

“TIE fighters.” She gritted her teeth.

“Ya mean th’ same thing we got in th’ barn?”

“No, not exactly. What we have in the barn is a little more adv-“ she stopped and looked at him, her lips taking on an “O” shape. “Do you think you could hold off a ground assault by yourself?”

“ ‘s tha’ a trick question?”

“No, I’m serious!” she snapped.

Drew looked at her for a long moment, “Yer not seriously thinkin’ a flyin’ tha’ thing?”

“Yes.”

“But ya said _fighters_ as in more ‘an one – they’ll blow ya up, an’ somehow I don’t think Sonic’s gunna be much good against ‘em.”

“The Defender can hold its own.”

“ ‘An ya know how ta use it?” he asked sizing her up – she was tiny compared to the machine that had displaced his cows.

“I’ll survive.” She growled, obviously getting frustrated with Twenty Questions, “Can you hold your own here or not?”

He bobbed his head slowly, “Yeah, I got this.”

“Good.” She stood, grabbing two DH-17s before hurrying to the door.

“Crissa.”

She turned and looked at him then and in hind sight he should have said it; should have told her but the memories of hurt wrought by Miranda stopped him, “Be careful.”

She smiled, her beautiful smile; “You too.”

 

Harding had heard the slight growl, saw the trigger being pulled and felt the super-heated blast, aimed at his head just as it was ejected from the blaster; a paused scene on display for him. His gift had done this for him several times before – the first time he was but a child trying to cross the street; the car had been careening wildly out of control, but he had managed to escape it, guided by the ripples in the fabric of what was a strange new level of existence he had dodged the tires. He would, once again smoothly avoid the danger.

Harding ducked below the table, just moments before the chair he had been sitting in burst into flames due to the force of the blaster bolt. The Russians had already taken up defensive measures and the Imperials began to retreat.

_Good._

He motioned to Boris who nodded; smiling knowingly.

He blinked through the haze of smoke and green blaster fire only to hear a slight gasp next to him. He turned. Harding found himself face-to-face with Elinor Savona crouched down behind the table they had been sitting at; the need to escape the sudden firefight had likely pressed her unknowingly close to him. Her eyes darkened and her face twisted in fear and disgust; the lightsaber she’d had in her hand came to life with a snap-hiss –

“Hello again, my dear!” he laughed

She didn’t respond in words, but she slashed at him with the impressive purple blade; he heard the alien call out for her. Elinor looked pained.

Harding chortled, “I know you don’t want to leave.”

“No, I want to be the one to kill you!” she snapped.

Harding saw another purple blade – the young Jedi had entered the fray, “Elinor!” he called, “They have the old retrofitted Defender shield! We have to go!”

“NO!” She leapt at Harding again, realizing she wasn’t going to get another chance to eliminate him as a threat.

_Good._

A few stray shots from the Imperials bounced harmlessly off the blue orb that flashed into existence when struck by blaster fire; about ten meters away from Boris. She noticed the ricochet and moved cautiously around a few chairs heading toward the Russians.

The Jedi was also making his way toward them, but from the opposite side; likely hoping to trap them in a pincher. The Imperials, emboldened by the two with the lightsabers or perhaps simply driven by Thrawn’s paranoia over not having Elinor clutched at his side, began to advance again.

Harding was on his way to intercepting Elinor, on her slow cautious approach to Boris; the Russian making every effort to send a shot her way – what wasn’t blocked by the physical barriers in the room was deflected by the lightsaber.

She would not kill him. Harding knew her; had traveled into the deep recesses of her mind. Elinor Savona was not a killer.

_Yet._

 

She was almost there. A few more chairs worth of cover and she would be within striking distance. The Russian called Boris had the shield on his back, but he was sitting down as if the pack containing the contraption was too heavy to lift.

_Perhaps it was?_

Thrawn was able to carry it without difficulty – but Thrawn wasn’t exactly the standard all men should be measured by.

She could injury the Russian in some way, making the difficulty in carrying the shield even greater, thereby avoiding (hopefully) having to kill him.

Elinor bit her lip in thought and absently bent her head as another bolt was hastily shot in her direction. She peeked over at Ezra, also slowly making his way over to the Russians from the opposite side of the room and then over at Thrawn and the group of Imperials. He had his back up against an over turned table when his eyes caught hers and she nodded once reassuringly.

Something subtle changed, she felt the ripple – it came from within and encompassed her entire being – it approached her physically from directly in front of her, but her eyes were too blinded by what was happening to her mind.

She pushed and he fell back and away from her.

Harding mentally got up; pulling her down, yanking her around as if she were nothing more than a rag doll. She screamed with the effort of trying to loosen his grip. Her subconscious kicks and punches caused him also to grunt as if he were physically impacted; but the two entities in their subliminal war were physically at arm’s length from each other. To the two combatants it was hours of skirmishing – a back and forth battle hard-fought, but to the other beings _physically_ surrounding them, it was nothing more than a confused second where they both stopped taking input from the rest of the world.

Until their tiny portion of the universe exploded violently back into existence.

 

Pyrondi sprinted to the barn not even bothering to look up to mark their locations in the night sky; she was more concerned about the ground assault – maybe she should take Athena up in the Defender with her…

_No, too risky_

Drew would hold off a krayt dragon for his sister’s daughter…or he would die trying. A wave of emotion hit her, causing her chest to ache and despite the warm, humid air she shivered.

Crissa flung open both building doors wide, latching them into place. She clambered into the cockpit, relieved that it smelled like industrial strength sanitizer instead of the aroma- _non_ -therapeutic-combination of used condoms and cannabis.

She setup the automatic pre-flight sequence, assessing the console in front of her as she stowed her weapons and situated herself into the flight harness. Toggling a couple switches…setup pressurization features…shields…adjust targeting system, she looked up in time to see a squad of stormtroopers enter the barn.

_Kriff!_

The Captain of the group made the universal signal to have her stop what she was doing and submit for questioning. She pursed her lips.

A subtle light flashed on the console below her - the system patiently prompting her to adjust the targeting system again.

_Alright then._

She pressed the set of red buttons underneath the yoke grip.

Pyrondi didn’t wait around to see how many of the squad were still around; whatever was left she reasoned she could get from the air as she punched the thrusters and the last Imperial TIE Defender shot through the opening of Drew’s barn.

It arched up, rocketing away, but wasn’t free.

Three of the Chimaera’s TIE fighters were already behind her and had taken the opportunity to start firing – knowing full well that the other ship was much faster and significantly more durable. Their pilots probably believed they needed an early start, but the Lieutenant Commander was not going to give them that benefit, and with a burst of speed she led them away to the north.

 

The Grand Admiral saw her face pale and her eyes turn to glass, as they did when she was not with him but somewhere in her own mind – off fighting monsters that had plagued them both.

As much as he hated to concede it, this could be the only way Harding could be eliminated – in this realm – under the boundary conditions of this type of warfare. He hated the idea; despised himself for being unable to come up with a better plan – but with the force sensitive Harding he seemed to be incapable of launching an effective, or at least an efficient attack.

It would have to fall onto Elinor or Bridger - they would have to go head to head with him – he would prefer the Jedi for obvious reasons. But the boy had told him over and over again that this was Elinor’s fight more than his and there would be a time when he could no longer help her.

Thrawn was slowly adjusting to the idea that he could not protect her; his very relationship with her was proof of that and so he would work to do what he could.

If they could silence Harding, here and now, that would leave Klary without her force sensitive lackey and the plan to retake the Chimaera could proceed, likely unhindered.

The Chiss watched Elinor carefully; looking around for the source of her obvious struggle. Harding was not within his view and he hissed frustratedly sending another well-timed blaster shot over his shoulder at the Russians holed up on the other side of the room.

The blast of course sputtered off the shield in front of the group of six, but it served as a distraction; enough for Bridger to move in slightly closer – still not near enough to disable the shield with a flick of his blade, but closer.

Bridger peeked over the side of a fallen bench, assessing his next move, “Elinor?”

Thrawn caught the shuddered of her body and then suddenly Harding lunched himself at her from the overturned table next to hers, his scream was savage, and she tried to raise her lightsaber in defense, but he kicked it from her hand. The Grand Admiral shifted his aim and fired but the man had already moved away like smoke, drifting slightly over Elinor. He grabbed her by her throat and lifted her, but she fought him; slamming her elbow down on his arm as he tried to tighten his grip on her neck. Howling in pain the two ended up falling to the floor both screaming; fighting and clawing at each other with renewed anger.

“Bridger!” Thrawn barked as he tried to line up his blaster on Harding – it was no use; he would hit Elinor.

Apparently, the Jedi found a way to help his student because the lightsaber Harding had kicked from her hand went zooming past Thrawn and landed in Elinor’s outstretched hand. Unfortunately, it was just one more thing for the two to fight over. Harding grabbed her wrist trying to wrestle it away as she tried to activate it.

The Grand Admiral meanwhile watched the Russians intently as well as Ezra Bridger’s progress; still instructing the other Imperials to shoot to distract so that the boy could continue his approach. Boris and his henchmen, however had their focus split three ways – several of the men were focused on Harding’s battle with Elinor, several were fixated on the Imperials clustered together – trying to dissuade their advance and several were eyeing the Jedi furtively as he got closer.

If they were going to survive they needed to move but Harding had pinned them up against the living décor – the large indoor garden, pond and waterfall would be the backdrop for their demise – Boris did not look capable of picking up the shield pack – Thrawn remembered it being heavy, which meant it would be exceedingly difficult for a human to carry far.

There was a muffled curse from one of the Russians and a scream from Harding. He couldn’t help but smile tightly; Elinor had activated her lightsaber and when it snapped into existence the edge of the blade seared the man’s shoulder. Thrawn saw her put the finishing touches on her attack by slamming her heal down hard on her aggressor’s foot; for good measure when he released her wrist, she elbowed him in the face sending Harding sprawling backward.

One of the three battle fronts had changed, and humans did not like change; they would react to it. As predicted, all of the Russians turned and leveled their weapons at Elinor. They were so distracted by the beautiful woman holding the glowing purple blade that they all forgot the boy and his own lightsaber.

Fractions of a second was all Bridger needed to sink his Jedi weapon into the pack on the Russian’s back – the man was screaming excitedly to his cronies as they turned their weapons back to their boss and the Jedi standing over him.

While their backs were turned however, the shield from Boris’s back had collapsed and Major Cran found it too hilarious not to laugh loudly – the sound of the Imperial’s mirth was not enough to warn them though.

Within two seconds it was over. Thrawn stood and rushed to Elinor; pulling her to him.

“Where is Harding?” he rumbled threateningly looking around the room again.

“Over here.”

The Imperials turned, raising their blasters. Somehow, George Harding had circled around the group so that he was between them and the vestibule. An uncomfortable feeling settled in between Thrawn’s shoulder blades.

“You have me at a disadvantage, Grand Admiral.” Harding smiled bitterly

Elinor jerked and raised her lightsaber, Ezra Bridger too, twitched uneasily; scanning the room, searching for the next threat. Thrawn shot a look at Cran who had his weapon trained on the man; there would be no escape for Harding if he tried to shoot his way out.

Thrawn’s gaze shifted back to the monster before him, “And why is that?”

Harding motioned to the dead Russian’s, “You’ve gotten rid of my escort,” there was a slight flicker of light from an incoming comm call – the receiver was attached to his wrist, “but don’t worry, I took the initiative and called for another.”

Thrawn’s eyes narrowed, he raised his blaster intent on shooting the man; he would spare Elinor the burden and save them both from the sick games. His shot went wide though, as he was pushed down. He sprang to his feet, fully dedicated to killing Harding; confirming the man was nothing more than a corpse, but he was once again pulled protectively down. The Chiss growled at the hand that held him – it was Elinor’s – he stopped and looked at her sharply.

She motioned with her horror-filled eyes to the east side of the building – just outside the floor-to-ceiling window that covered the entire wall, hovering ominously, was an Imperial TIE fighter.

Commander Klary apparently knew they were here too.

 

Pyrondi had never been a good pilot; fair at best, but the Defender made things easy. You didn’t really need to be an ace to handle her – the weapon’s systems, on the other hand…that took some adjusting to.

She looped around the lead TIE and opened up with her heavy cannons, the targeting computer screeching at her as the other pilot was obviously skilled at evading enemy fire. So occupied was she in trying to hit the son-of-a-Hutt that she reduced her speed.

One of the other TIEs almost blew her out of the sky.

She swore viciously and looped around again, this time targeting the TIE behind her. And this time she got the targeting computer to focus on something more than just stormtroopers. The debris that was once one of the Chimaera’s fighters crackled against the Defender’s shield

_One down, two to go._

The first TIE that she had focused so carefully on almost costing her life and limb had started to sway trying to elude her lock again. The pilot failed and Crissa put on another burst of speed after the thing disintegrated; falling victim to one of the Defender’s missiles.

_Two down._

But where in the Nine Hells was the last one?

She curved back around, searching but still didn’t find the third and final TIE fighter. The Lieutenant Commander decided it would be best to head back to the farm and patrol it from the sky; eventually Klary would send in a ground assault.

Pyrondi would be ready.

 

He peeked out the window and caught movement shortly after Crissa left. Drew had heard her fire up the engine of the thing in the barn; sighing in relief, but then the guys in white showed up. They raced into the building normally reserved for his cows. The building the Lieutenant Commander had disappeared into

“Huh, dun’t look too friendly.”

Athena gurgled from the sack behind him, “They friends a yers?”

To answer his question, Pyrondi sent a massive blast of green fire scorching out of his barn – white armored men either went shooting out with it or scrambling to get away as the TIE Defender shot out whirling up into the sky. The armored men on the ground; survivors of the initial explosion made a futile attempt to shoot at the fighter as it rocketed away into the night.

“Welp, alright then.” Drew smirked as he propped the DLT-19 up on the window sill and opened fire.

After the fourth and final one fell, he tasted bile in the back of his throat, making sure there weren’t any more around and there was no immediate danger he unhooked the bag carrying the precious cargo from his back. He loped to the other side of the room; certain he wouldn’t make it to the bathroom, and vomited.

He had never ever killed a _person_ before.

_They were people._

What he had done; what he had to do, was for _family_. It was _necessary_ to protect his family.

To accent this, Athena gave a little cry and flailed her limps frantically.

Did the baby girl know her uncle just became a murderer?

Drew wiped his mouth and stood up a little straighter; Athena stopped crying and lay very still…which was when he heard the sound…

It wasn’t the same sound as the TIE fighters, but it was large and sounded strangely like moving metal.

_thunk-click thuck-click thuck-click thuck-click_

It was also moving fast and getting closer.

The farmer dropped down to his knees, crawled hurriedly to his niece; sparing a quick look out the window as he did. There were only three descriptors that entered his mind before he saw his barn explode.

_Big. Metal. Chicken._

 

The glass wall shattered as a flash of green light was emitted from the intimidating Imperial craft floating outside the Vogue; right next to the high-class restaurant at its apex. Several blasts hit the buildings structure below the top floor causing the floor underneath their feet to sway and writhe unpredictably like a terrified animal.

“COVER!” Cran screamed as he tried desperately to grab at her.

“We’ve got to get Harding!” Elinor snarled back, “This whole thing is for nothing if we don’t!”

And he could sense her frustration, her agony at being so close to ending the threat he posed. George Harding was thoroughly enjoying the emotions emanating from her.

“Come on Elinor! Kill me. God knows your Grand Admiral couldn’t do it,” He mocked.

Despite the systematic destruction of the top of the building; the part of which they were currently in, Thrawn still found it a convenient point to remind Harding that he would _not_ be referred to in the third person if he were present. The Grand Admiral’s blaster shot hit the man in his uninjured shoulder sending him sprawling and cursing the others existence; the Chiss allowed himself a very slight smile.

This was her opportunity. She ignited her lightsaber jumped up from her hiding spot and sprinted toward Harding. Elinor felt the TIE pilot’s eyes on her, could almost feel his trigger fingers pull back and –

The blast sent her flying forward and the floor opened up below her.

She back peddled, scrambling up a newly formed ledge that had once been a dining room. Elinor looked down to see Thrawn, who had raced after her in her thoughtless dash to kill Harding, holding on to the edge one handed. Deactivating her lightsaber, she clambered to the brim, lowering herself down to him He swung himself up and she caught his other hand helping him to safety or at least relative safety.

The top of the building rocked and creaked under the strain of being bombarded with multiple blasts of plasma. It was the screech of stainless-steel beams that almost masked the rolling of the metal cylinder, loosened from its protected location at her feet. The lightsaber rolled down a small slab of flooring that was leaning precariously against the opposite side of its counterpart piece of floor – like faulted earth after a major quake.

Elinor gasped and lunged unthinkingly for the weapon, onto the slab of flooring that seemed to be almost suspended in mid-air. It gave way under her weight just as her hand wrapped around the hilt.

She didn’t remember screaming – there was no time – and there was no need to anyways. Two very powerful arms reached down to grab her before she fell along with the slab of concrete, steel and cabling to the next floor and possibly through to the next several floors. Elinor looked up to see red eyes looking down at her.

Another blast jarred her so much the hard-earned lightsaber jumped from her grasp. Or was it wrenched from her hand by fate?

Again, she grabbed at it – but her fingers moved through thin air and she watch in horror – as it flew into the outstretched hand of George Harding.

“NO!!”

Although the Grand Admiral kept her from certain death, still attempting to pull her up while avoiding falling pieces of building and blasts from the patrolling TIE fighter, she tried to claw away from him; desperate to regain her weapon.

“Elinor! We must go!” Thrawn pulled her up as she still struggled.

“NO!”

“Elinor – “ a blast from the TIE drowned out his words and another blast made her teeth vibrate “ - Athena may be in danger!”

Her eyes widened and every fiber of her being grew cold and still.

Yes. Klary knew and would likely be hunting for their daughter…

She turned to where Harding had been, he was closer to her now; his eyes dark and hungry like a predator’s, a small smile on his lips. He waved the hilt of the lightsaber at her, his small smile widening. She gritted her teeth and spat at him, her lip curling up in a snarl but there was nothing she could do now.

She turned back to Thrawn and the others.

Elinor didn’t feel the TIE pilot tracking her moves as she stood. Apparently, he was distracted by Ezra’s lightsaber; Cran and Dizon had given the young Jedi enough cover to fling the blade out toward the fighter in a wide arc. It hit one of the TIE’s side panels which would have been the kiss of death had the little ship been traveling at speed, but as it was simply hovering, it only required several adjustments to right itself. As the TIE lost altitude during the pilot’s modifications, accounting for the damaged panel, the Imperials rushed toward the gaping holes that had once been elevator shafts.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi,
> 
> Um. I felt weird about writing Thrawn as anything other than having his act together all the time - like who the hell am I to presume to write the Grand Admiral in a state other than damn near clairvoyant?
> 
> I figured, life's a bitch. I'm sure Thrawn would understand...


	57. Falling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning:  
> Violence, Language
> 
> In This Chapter:  
> The third TIE fighter  
> Down a drain - Drew hiding his niece  
> How many krayt dragons does it take, Major?  
> Just press the damn toggle, Crissa!!!  
> The Jedi puts on the breaks  
> Whittland's banking on karma...  
> Drew's couch, Sonic and a commlink  
> Elinor's distraction: Next time wear armor  
> Followed by a TIE fighter - not this again!  
> The tender leg of an Imperial walker - Klary traps Drew  
> “Over here! I’ve found the crash site!”  
> Ezra jumps into action while Thrawn takes a nap.

 

Lieutenant Commander Crissa Pyrondi was still searching for the third TIE when she saw the fire in the distance. Her heart skipped a beat and her stomach dropped; she heard herself cry out. She pulled back on the yoke to unleash as much speed as she could from the little craft while also descending, her fingers rubbing impatiently up against the triggers, fully ready to rain death on whomever set blaze to the ground below her.

It didn’t take her long to figure out, Commander Klary had been expecting something more than a paranoid farmer with a bunch of guns. An FD P-Tower light laser cannon was on the ground about one hundred yards from the house and an AT-ST walker was lumbering up to the inferno that had once been the barn. Imperial forces were also making their way from the wooded area adjacent to the Savona farm through the field and to the storage buildings and animal pens; they included at least five squads of stormtroopers by her rough count.

Pyrondi swore colorfully, spinning around to take out the ground-based laser cannon, which of course was when the third TIE fighter reemerged to make her life even _more_ difficult than it already was. The blast jarred her against her restraints and there was a warning flash on her console.

The aft shields near the arm to the number three panel were gone.

 

Drew hunched while running toward the back of the house, gun in one hand, crying baby pressed protectively to his chest with the other. Whatever the giant metal chicken had done to the barn, it could likely do to the house; his solution was to get the hell out of any building that could spontaneously explode around him. He ran to the downstairs bedroom – his parent’s old room and flung open the window.

Carefully he lowered the gun, propping it up against the outside of the building; slinging Athena in bag over his shoulder he slid out the window on his belly. As soon as his feet touched the ground he was on the move.

Athena seemed to know that anything, but utter silence would get her and the man carrying her killed or captured; the baby girl remained completely mute. Several times Drew had to look back over his shoulder to make sure that she was not only still in the bag but also safe. As if to reassure him a tiny blue hand clumsily pressed up against the side of his face - what little that she had in fine motor skills went to comfort her uncle.

Drew looked frantically around trying to find some place to hide.

He and Thomas Savona had spent the few months after Ellie left for MIT creating a French drain behind the house to collect excessive water run off, essentially funneling it to the creek a good thirty yards away.

Inside the basin, two feet below the grating, there was a lip about three feet wide before it dropped another six inches to the opening on the side of the wall. The ledge was just big enough for Athena to lay on. Even if they got rain, it would take quite a bit for the sink to fill up – it was a good fifteen by fifteen basin not accounting for the three feet of lip on all sides and the drain sat fairly low too.

_It’s worth a shot_!

He looked around quickly, yanked the grating up and placed Athena on the ledge.

“Now, ya be a good girl, ‘k?” he bent down and kissed her cheek.

She flailed and started to fuss, “Nah, nah purty girl, Uncle Drew’s gunna go clean up a couple a messes. Ya gotta be quiet, ‘k. Don’t run off, now, ya hear?”

As he put the grating back down he heard the wailing of his baby niece and he was also certain he heard something inside him break – perhaps it was whatever was left of his heart.

 

Cran looked down into the gaping maw.

_Not if a million krayt dragons were after me._

Dizon didn’t like snakes, Pyrondi had an issue with strange smells, Elinor apparently didn’t like bugs, Major Thae Cran hated heights.

Of course, he’d climb to the top of a building and look down. That was fine, so long as all his appendages were confined into a known space, great.

But to go hurtling down an elevator shaft?

_No!_

“Major?” The Grand Admiral’s voice behind him made him jump, “Major, we _do_ have grappling guns.”

“Right.” Cran grunted.

Apparently Grand Admiral Thrawn was the one millionth and one krayt dragon because Cran found himself triggering the hook and grabbing onto the handles, cringing. The other Imperials were already making their way down the shaft with Ezra Bridger leading the way.

The young Jedi had finally gotten to the top of the only elevator whose massive cabling had not failed, sending the metal box hurtling hundreds of feet downward. Bridger expertly sliced through the top and one by one each of his companions jumped into yet another death trap.

Once Cran and the Grand Admiral, the last two had slipped into the box, Toldera slammed his finger on the button for the lobby. Elinor bit her lip anxiously, half expecting it not to work, but the numbers started to tick down…

The happy-go-lucky jingle of elevator music was in sharp disparity to the chaos that was being wrought above them; the irony of the sign reading ‘In Case of Emergency Please Do Not Use Elevator’ made her shake her head. Regardless, she allowed herself to breathe a sigh of relief.

It was a short reprieve.

The metal box lurched to the left between Floor 42 and 41, there was the sickening snap-twain sound of frayed taught metal finally giving way and –

FREEFALL.

 

Crissa juked and dived in an effort to circle back around TIE #3 but in her struggle to evade him and protect her vulnerable flank, Pyrondi’s altitude dropped, essentially placing her in the walker’s killing zone. The Defender was fast for sure, but the Lieutenant Commander was not a pilot by training; certainly, she did well enough at the Academy but that was years ago!

In her defense the AT-ST’s shot was a lucky one, a glancing blow, but it was enough and right at the cusp of the degraded panel and the healthy portion of the fighter’s shield. The wing blew off spectacularly, almost blinding her and the little craft went spiraling out of control.

Crissa Pyrondi was not one to think of death, but as she felt her brain being scrambled by the extreme g-forces, she thought dully of the man in the house below her and what could have been. Somewhere, somehow the she found the strength to pull up on the yoke, the weight pressing down on her lessened slightly. She pulled further back.

_Toggle._

_Pull the switch for the stabilizer!_

Her brain goaded her to remain conscious long enough to wretch her left hand from the yoke and use her index finger to press the yellow toggle switch down – it was so hard to press down though…and oblivion seemed so easy compared to awareness.

_Press it, Crissa._

_Just relax, it’s almost over._

_Press. It._

_NOW._

 

Her stomach lurched and Elinor heard herself scream involuntarily. The sound of rushing air. Metal-on-metal. They weren’t actually in freefall – they hadn’t reached terminal velocity; the cab of the elevator wobbled with changes in acceleration as if the emergency breaks were attempting to latch, initiating but unable to lock.

Thrawn and Ezra had come to the same conclusion too, almost simultaneously based on their responses.

“Bridger!” Thrawn called as Ezra activated his lightsaber, careful to keep the blade away from the other passengers in the crowded elevator cab.

“Got it!”

The young Jedi maneuvered himself into the center of the outside wall and slammed the blade almost down to the hilt through the side of the elevator, the slight space between it and the shaft wall and likely the wall of the shaft itself. The cab pitched again and slowed noticeable as sparks flew from the blade; Ezra leaned away cringing.

The tell-tale metallic shriek of a mechanical breaking system caused the floor underneath them to rock, Yermentic would have fallen over had it not been for Wilton bracing her arm. After several erratic heartbeats later, the clank of clamps could be heard, and the cab was finally still.

They were on the third floor.

Thrawn nodded to Ezra in obvious appreciation for the Jedi’s handiwork, “Perhaps, we shall take the stairs the remainder of the way?”

All eyes turned to the Grand Admiral and Elinor caught a flicker of relief from the Major. Cran, after so many close-calls with Russian oligarchs, TIE fighters, and stormtroopers never seemed so wilted and miserable as he did upon staggering out of the elevator at the Vogue.

 

Agent Doug Whittland was tasked with finding the downed fighter and confirming the pilot was dead.

The commander had assigned two of the white guys with bug-eyed helmets to go with him. They were probably tagging along to keep an eye on him; making sure he did the job, that or they were going to kill him too.

He had watched as the metal tank on walking stilts shot it down; tracked it with his eyes as it spun out of control. At the last minute to leveled off, likely scraping the corn stalks and roughing up the top soil when it did finally make impact. There was a chance the pilot was injured but alive.

If that happened to be true, Whittland was going to change that, especially since Klary told him that the person most likely piloting the little craft would be none other than Imperial Lieutenant Commander Crissa Pyrondi.

He smirked.

Karma had a way of making things easy and simple. And Whittland liked simple.

 

Drew circled around the house watching the armored men fan out; searching. They burst through the door to the house and entered blasters blazing as they did.

_Shit. They probably blew up my damn couch._

He decided then, that if they all survived this, he was going to make the _Grand_ Admiral pay for a new one and Drew would _not_ be frugal. The sofa would be able to whistle, fart, and drive a cart; it’d recline, have cup holders, be able to massage his feet _and_ have a built-in fridge!

He shook his head to clear it; focusing on his current situation.

But he had somehow, in all the uproar forgotten about Sonic the Murder Machine. He doubted the beady eyed bastards that barged into his living room, destroying twenty-year-old furniture would soon forget him, though.

He almost laughed – how fast could they run dressed in all that heavy plastic?

Apparently pretty fast – one of them was already on his commlink yelling for reinforcements.

Drew heard the terrifying _thunk-click thuck-click thuck-click thuck-click_ and moved further toward the back of the house and deeper into the shadows as the giant thing came clunking around the inferno that had been his barn.

He cursed silently to himself.

Another one of the white armored guys hurled himself out a living room window and Sonic came rolling through the front door – right through the screen – like a homicidal hedgehog on a mission. It unfurled itself and aimed its two guns at the two remaining stormtroopers on the porch.

Unfortunately, the droid was oblivious to the AT-ST walker targeting it and despite its shielding, the blast from the heavy weaponry on the walker blew it to pieces. Of course, the front porch splintered apart also causing the two troopers to go flying.

The farmer observing all of it wasn’t quite sure what shocked him more, the power of the blast that destroyed the droideka and ruined the front portion of his house or the utter carelessness the people doing the shooting had for the lives of the two stormtroopers trying to avoid Sonic’s short-lived reign of terror.

He watched as more soldiers came and stepped over the two obviously injured men – to be completely ignored; their comrades burst into the house to continue the search that had been rudely interrupted by a trundling machine spewing death.

The stormtroopers wasted no time in combing through the Savona residence, confirming the house was empty. The leader making a gesture to the others to search the perimeter; motivating Drew to climb back through the downstairs bedroom window before he could get caught in their sweep.

What were the odds of them going back through the house again?

Now, if he could just get to Athena, and get back to the house without them noticing; he could wait them out until –

He heard it. An explosion from above.

_Crissa._

Drew gritted his teeth and felt the heat behind his eyes. He fumbled frantically with the commlink she’d given him.

“Anytime you need to reach me - just press this button.” She had said, indicating the center button on the little device while giving him a coy smile.

“Anytime? Ya gunna respond anytime I wanna talk ta ya?”

“Anytime I can respond, I will. And for those times I can’t I’ll respond as soon as I can.” She had stood on her toes and kiss him; a lingering kiss that had evolved into her staying longer than she had intended.

The line beeped indicating no response; a rarity for her and he swore wiping sweat from his brow and scrunching his face in emotion. He stowed the commlink and continued to crouch near the window waiting for the troopers to finish their sweep.

He waited.

Counting in his head what he estimated to be five minutes without seeing another guard he popped his head up which was, coincidentally when he heard the chilling _thunk-click thuck-click thuck-click thuck-click_ again – and it was moving from the front of the house to the side; getting closer.

 

The Imperials burst through the side door into the alleyway to find it packed with people. Dizon was leading the way and he stopped suddenly in surprise, his mind instantly flashing to the Chiss behind him.

_Did they really care about being discreet?_

The Grand Admiral understood his hesitation though and remained inside the building out of sight.

“Uh, sir?” the stormtrooper growled.

“Yes, Captain. It would seem we require a distraction,” the suave voice said calmly in their ears.

Elinor looked around, most of the people in the alley were obviously evacuees from the building they had just played a role in destroying. Most of them were men and were extremely displeased at being displaced.

A thought occurred to her. It would probably be the most embarrassing thing she’d done. She looked down at herself; her dress was torn and dirty, and she was certain her hair was a mess. Elinor tried to remember what she was wearing underneath the dress as she glanced furtively up at Thrawn, biting her lip, “I can give you that distraction,” then in a lower voice, “you may not like it though.”

_And you’re definitely not going to like it, Elinor!_

The Grand Admiral shot her a questioning look.

She pursed her lips, and shrugged, stepping back and just inside the building she unzipped the back of her dressed and quickly shimmed out of it.

“Elinor? What are you doing?”

“Giving you your distraction!”

She heard Yermentic chuckle softly over the comm line, “He wanted you to distract _them_ , not _him_!”

“Shut it, Tabitha,” Cran barked.

Thrawn hissed, “Enough!” he looked over at Elinor who had balled up the dress and handed it absently to a flushed Ezra who was intently studying something on the opposite wall of the alleyway. She took the earbud out of her ear and her mother’s ring off her finger and placed both carefully in her bra between her breasts.

“I’ll meet you at the U-Haul,” she smiled slightly, at Thrawn’s arched brow.

_Maybe this will teach you to wear your armor!_

The Grand Admiral shook his head, “Captain, please…” his eyes casually swept down, “ensure Dr. Savona’s safety.”

Dizon cleared his throat looking awkward, “Yes, sir. Uh – ma’am. After you?”

With that Elinor walked out into the crowd, her face flushed red as she tip-toed away from the door; the throng of people parted for her, some good-naturedly hooting at her, one offered to pay for new clothes if she’d let him watch her try them on; they all stared. The stormtrooper Captain stood arms crossed over his chest, and based on his facial expressions, she was thankful she couldn’t hear the conversation on the other end of the comm.

Looking back over her shoulder she noticed they had all left the safety and discretion of the darkened exit; her eyes flicked to Dizon who nodded. Elinor bobbed her head and shyly moved out of her circle of admirers; some wanting very much to get her name and contact information.

She rushed to the U-Haul fearing her face would never return to its unreddened state ever again and jumped into the passenger seat. Dizon flung open the driver side door; the engine was already running, and he slammed the gear shift at the steering column into drive.

There was a gentle tap on her shoulder. Thrawn handed her the balled-up dress, his face expressionless, she shakily stood moving to the back - the design of their particular U-Haul was such that the storage space was conveniently connected to the cab of the truck.

“One moment?”

Elinor winced, half expecting to hear disapproval in her chosen means of distraction.

Instead the Chiss merely tilted his head in question, “Are you forgetting something?”

Dizon turned a corner and she braced herself against him, “I – I didn’t leave anything behind except my dignity.” She hedged, her face still red and incredibly hot.

He smirked as he reached down; plucking the ring and then the ear comm out of her bra.

She grinned, “Oh, _those_.”

“Yes. _Those_.”

The moment was unfortunately interrupted.

If not for his usefulness, the Grand Admiral would have thrown Ezra Bridger out an airlock while they were still aboard the Chimaera purely due to the boy’s ability to impart on the Chiss, a previously-unknown level of annoyance (mostly stemming from an ill sense of timing on the Jedi’s part).

“We’ve got company!” Bridger called; he was seated in the passenger seat, where Elinor had been.

Elinor shoved the earpiece in her ear only to hear the last of Cran’s warning, “-ighter on your tail, Dizon!”

“What?” she looked sharply up at Thrawn as his face contorted in barely concealed anger.

The top of the U-Haul was suddenly ripped off by a blast of burning hot plasma, sending Elinor sailing into the hard side of the compartment; her head hitting painfully against one of the jagged racks used to secure furniture with rope or bungee cords. She looked up from her prone position on the floor, air lashing her; providing some cooling relief to the new gash on her head.

Elinor gasped.

She was looking at the underside of an Imperial TIE fighter.

_Not again._

 

Klary gazed at the fire lost in idle wonderment at how the natives of this ridiculous planet could live so simply; especially this particular one. Elinor Savona had been peculiar; an advanced intellect well beyond her peers.

Her family, however, was unfortunately nothing more than peasant trash. If she had been born in the Empire, she’d have been ostracized despite her obvious wit due to her pedigree. Even worse, she had the indecency to consort with an _alien_.

The squad leader interrupted her thoughts, “Ma’am, we’ve searched the buildings, no one’s present. Could they have fled?”

“Unlikely. Keep searching.” Klary sighed as she rolled her eyes, “Send the walker on patrol, that may get someone’s attention.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The stormtrooper relayed the message and the AT-ST began lumbering to the west side of the main dwelling.

As if on cue, a figure emerged from the side of the house and ran toward one of the legs of the walker. The Commander couldn’t help but laugh as the man began beating it with his fists. Naturally the stormtroopers nearby descended on the crude native and dragged him away.

The Imperials should have known something was amiss; despite the man’s previous attempts to pound the metal beast into oblivion with just physical brute force, he began running away from it.

Klary cocked her head in confusion - that is until she remembered the images the CT10 had picked up before Crissa Pyrondi’s droideka destroyed it.

“He’s got a thermal deton-“ her horrified alarm was interrupted by the leg of the AT-ST exploding.

The body of the walker hung precariously in mid-air for a few wrenching heartbeats and then dramatically tipped over; barely missing the Savona residence, displacing dust and gravel as it fell.

She already had her blaster at the ready and was firing at the man, clearly seeking cover from the coming onslaught. He had apparently stashed a few well-concealed blasters in the shadows of the house because he dived clumsily for them.

Perhaps her key to success was nearby?

Not wanting to damage it in anyway, she pressed the command comm line at her wrist. All blaster fire immediately stopped. The Major in command rumbled a query in her ear.

“Orders ma’am.”

“Set all weapons to stun.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

There was the sound of multiple blaster readjustments and the shuffling of feet; quite probably an intimidating noise for a lone farmer from a back-water world – well out of his league. It _should_ have been terrifying.

But Andrew Savona leaned out of his hiding place slightly, heavy blaster rifle in hand and shouted at the steely woman standing in front of his burning barn.

“Wha’ in hell da ya wan’? I’m not buyin’ anything yer sellin’, lady!”

Klary couldn’t help but smile, “Mr. Savona, I’m not interested in causing any more problems for you. All I want is the child.”

“Sorry, lady. I don’t got any kids. Ya offerin’?”

She snorted, “Your sister’s daughter, Mr. Savona – where is she?”

“Oh yeah her, she’s off in ‘er flyin’ saucer wit ‘er mother. Hadn’t seen ‘em in days.”

The Commander was starting to lose patience with the trajectory the conversation was headed, “I promise you no harm will come to the child or your sister if you cooperate.”

“Now, why don’t I believe ya?”

“Where is she?!” Klary spat.

“Behind ya, bitch!”

The commander didn’t fall for it, but several of the stormtroopers did, turning slightly – it was perhaps for the best; a way of weeding out stupidity from the ranks. Savona shot two and threw a second thermal detonator, scattering half a dozen stormtroopers, before a stun blast hit him in the chest sending him sprawling into the chipped siding of the house.

 

Crissa blinked several times, becoming aware and annoyed over the water running down her face. It dripped down the side of her right temple; droplets on her eyelashes and tear-like streaks running down the tip of her nose. She was hunched over looking at her lap – the crash webbing supporting her aching body.

_Toggle._

Yes, she had pushed the toggle switch.

The woman smiled thinly, wincing as she did but still relishing in the triumph. She managed to press the toggle switch at the last possible moment, when all hope was lost, when her strength was about to fail; Crissa Pyrondi had mustered enough power in her index finger to push a metal lever.

_Why_ did she need to do that, though?

She tried to remember; tried to think.

Nothing came to mind – except the kriffing water. It was hot and thick, tasting of iron and salt.

Pyrondi stared at her lap some more until finally drops of water made their way down her chin; dribbling down to her pant leg staining it red. She frowned.

That wasn’t right, water wasn’t supposed to be _red._

There was a scrapping sound and the tenor of men’s voices.

“Over here! I’ve found the crash site!”

 

Elinor’s eyes widened.

“Dizon!!” she screamed.

“I know! I know!” the stormtrooper Captain was yelling at everyone and no one; the comm line was a flurry of curses and commands from Cran to break, then hit the gas, then break again.

She frantically looked around for Thrawn and found him. Ezra had him propped up near the corner of the cavernous cargo compartment of the U-Haul, closest to the driver side of the cab. He was unconscious and bleeding. She gasped and crawled to them, her eyes flashing to Ezra in panic.

“He’s just unconscious – hit his head when the TIE came up alongside us,” the young Jedi clarified.

Although she was already on her hands and knees, Elinor was flung forward by the force of Dizon applying the breaks suddenly. There was a crow of satisfaction from Cran and it sounded like another from Ovally but it didn’t last long.

“Son of a rancor is too damn fast,” Wilton screamed in the comm.

“If we can’t shoot him down and can’t outrun him then we’ve got to hide!” Dizon growled.

“Where are we?” Elinor called.

“Still on Providence Avenue, passing 9th.” Yermentic grumbled.

“WHAT?” She screeched, “We’re still in the city! There’re people all over the place!”

“Klary has apparently given up on subtlety.” Dizon mumbled turning a corner far too quickly and sending Elinor, Ezra and the still unconscious Grand Admiral lurching to the left while the U-Haul travel precariously on two wheels.

She looked up through the hole in the roof of the U-Haul’s cargo compartment and then desperately at Ezra, “We’ve got to do something, or people are going to get hurt!” she inhaled deeply, “I lost my lightsaber. Can I borrow yours?”

Ezra shook his head smiling slightly, “No. I think I can manage this.”

She was about to ask him what he meant; was going to explain to him _her_ plan when he casually stood – not too gently letting Thrawn’s head fall to the floor – grabbing his lightsaber from his belt and standing over the largest part of the shredded metallic ceiling of the truck.

“Let the TIE fly over a bit.” Ezra called over his shoulder to Dizon.

“ARE YOU CRAZY?! He’ll blast a hole in front of us and send us right into it – we’d be womp rats at a shooting range!”

“Just do it!” Elinor barked and to her surprise she heard Cran second the command but with more urgency and a few curse words thrown in.

Arton Dizon muttered something about Jedi tricks and krayt spit, breaking so suddenly even Ezra staggered slightly. Elinor flew forward yet again but before she turned into some strange real-life cartoon character – stopping in mid-air to turn and gasp before falling, thus defying the laws of physics – she saw to her amazement Ezra Bridger jump up and out of the hole in the roof of the truck; lightsaber ignited.

The young Jedi had cleared the U-Haul in one leap, using the Force to enhance his speed and strength. He had felt the TIE fighter cut through the air – felt the malignant intent of its pilot, used the Force to adjust his movements timing the jump just so his body would clear over the bulbous part of the Imperial craft. His lightsaber arcing downward through the arm bracing one of the panels to the body of the fighter as he spun back down toward his point of origin.

The panel spun wildly in the space where it was detached from the rest the machine it was previously associated with, then finally dropping down to the ground below and rolling lazily down Providence Avenue. The rest of the “machine” violently twirled away, whizzing past the dazed spectators and crashing stunningly and rather fortunately in an empty construction site.

Elinor and Dizon stared out the windshield, watching as the TIE fighter wing continued to roll away; no easy feat since it was hexagonal in shape rather than rounded. The young Jedi landing immediately in front of them on the hood of the truck interrupted their slack-mouthed, widened eyed dismay and turned it into a startled jerky movement toward a blaster and a shriek of surprise.

Ezra smirked at both of them, “Tell Thrawn it’s time to wake up. The hard part’s over.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello,
> 
> This chapter and the next were difficult to edit...they both played out in my mind and were written quickly but have been an editorial nightmare. I feel this chapter and the next (Titled: "World on Fire") aren't really great but they played out in my boggled brain as written.  
> Sorry...


	58. World on Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning:  
> Violence, Language
> 
> In This Chapter:  
> Evil Thy Name is Klary  
> Eye witness accounts and the sinking feeling that something is wrong  
> Now a killer  
> Athena makes an impression  
> Maybe Pyrondi will get lucky?  
> It all lay burning before them...

 

He woke up slowly; sluggishly. His vision was blurry but from what he could tell, the person looking down at him was a woman. She had dark hair and would have likely been beautiful if it had not been for the way her nose crinkled up in disgust and lip curled in contempt.

“Andrew Savona, you’re a hard man to catch,” her voice was laced with thinly veiled scorn.

“Never said I was easy,” he groaned as he turned slightly over on his side, using his elbow to prop himself up.

The woman squatted down next to him so he could clearly see her now; she had piercing cold blue eyes. She cocked her head and brought a small pistol languidly to rest on his left knee, smiling sweetly as she did.

“Let me ask you again. Where is the child?”

“Lemme tell ya again. I dunno.”

She continued to smile sweetly as she pulled the trigger sending a blast into his patella. Drew howled in pain, unconsciously falling back cupping the knee with both hands bending his body around the injury to protect it from further damage.

Commander Greta Klary motioned to three stormtroopers standing nearby; somehow managing to look nervous despite having their faces covered.

“Hold him.” She snarled.

Each one grabbed an undamaged limb, holding the man down to the ground as Klary leaned over him, again placing the blaster on him – this time on his right knee.

“Your sister’s daughter. Where?” she demanded.

The man stared at her with clenched teeth, trembling in pain and rage; the trooper holding the leg cringed away from the burst of plasma as the second knee was shot sending the farmer almost into unconsciousness.

Klary wasted no time; jamming the blaster in Drew’s shoulder she bent down still further coming almost nose-to-nose with him.

“WHERE?”

He spat in her face.

She fired again.

The man was sobbing now, and the Commander had to admit she was impressed. Hardened Imperial soldiers had endured less and had crumbled. Perhaps he really did not know. Perhaps Crissa Pyrondi had taken her away…

Klary paced slowly around the man, studying him carefully, “If you knew where the child was, would you tell me?”

When the man was finally able to collect his breath, he looked up at her, tears streaming down his face.

“I’d tell ya ta go ta hell, bitch.”

The stormtrooper holding his last good limb stiffened and the woman smiled knowingly. Elinor Savona’s brother steeled himself for the next shot. He would likely die of the second and third degree burns if they weren’t treated and based on Harding’s report no one would be coming back to the farm anytime soon.

_Why not let the man suffer for his stubbornness?_

“Mr. Savona, your sister is dead. You can help yourself and your niece. I will make your death quick if –“ she held up her index finger, “You. Tell. Me. Where.”

“I’ll rot, but thanks fer th’ offer.”

Her eyes flashed and she lined up her blaster once more, fully intent on blowing his other shoulder to pieces but the call from one of the stormtrooper captains stayed her trigger finger.

“Ma’am, we found something.”

She smirked down at Drew, “Don’t go anywhere.”

The Commander followed the trooper to a sloped area behind the shack where the farmer lived. A small trench – obviously a primitive drainage system – had been created and the two followed it to a group of white armored soldiers circled around a rudimentary concreate trough covered by a grill. The group surrounding the drain hastily parted when they saw Klary, allowing her access.

She leaned over.

“Open it.”

Inside was, what she had been searching for. The baby stared back at her with unblinking red eyes so reminiscent of her fathers; it made Klary shiver. One of the stormtroopers picked up the bundle and handed the child to her and the little girl kicked and fussed; her obstinance comparable to that of her mother.

She chuckled heartily and began walking back to the front of the house where the child’s uncle lay crippled. Likely seeing his effort wasted would add salt to the man’s wounds.

_Good._

Klary sighed contentedly despite the squirming baby’s screams; Andrew Savona had likely heard her wails because he was already clawing his way through the gravel toward them. Again, the Commander was impressed by the farmer.

“Under normal circumstances, Mr. Savona, I would put you out of your misery, but there is a _very_ slim chance that someone survived, and your continued existence would relay a message.”

“Anybody ever told ya not ta piss off a mama bear?” Drew glared up at her, slowly losing the will to remain conscious, “Ellie’s gunna rip yer head off an’ tha’s nothin’ compared ta wha th’ blue guy’ll do. Yer totally fucked, lady.”

“I guess we’ll have to see, now won’t _we_.”

She set her blaster to stun at the last possible moment and shot the man in the chest; confident he wouldn’t survive the night with his injuries as they were.

She called to the nearest squad leader, “Captain, leave half a squad here, just in case someone returns, have them start burning the fields. Then after that – “ she kicked the stunned man on the ground, “- drag him into the house and burn it.”

There was the slightest of pauses; hardly noticeable but the Commander had been perpetually on the alert for such hesitations, noting they were indicative of the first signs of trouble.

“Yes, ma’am,” the Captain replied crisply after the brief stumble.

“Oh, and Captain?”

“Yes, ma’am?”

Klary shot the stormtrooper in the chest at point-blank-range hence piercing the heavy armor; killing him instantly, “Don’t ever hesitate to ask questions or voice concerns? I like to keep any open mind,” she smiled sarcastically down at the dead man.

The Commander relayed the same order to the next stormtrooper Captain, who answered crisply to every directive given…whether he had concerns or not.

 

Several pedestrians would later make eyewitness statements to Channel 11 News, the Uptown precincts and of course the Federal Bureau of Investigation. The accounts were insane.

“People were hanging out of a Chevy Suburban, holding laser pointers making strange exploding _pew-pew-pew_ sounds at a flying eye-ball!”

“Someone in a U-Haul jumped a half-mile up into the air and cut a giant dumb-bell in half with a glowing Ginsu knife!”

“I swear I saw I blue guy with red eyes near the Vogue with a half-naked lady!”

In reality, Thrawn had regained consciousness and had allowed Elinor to dress the gash on his temple. She too sported a cut and a few bruises but otherwise everyone was surprisingly unscathed. Cran and the SUV full of Imperials had also survived; every single one of them had reeled arms and legs back into the vehicle after trying to shoot down the TIE.

With minimal loses, Cran and companions headed to the shuttle while the U-Haul’s passengers headed toward the Savona homestead, but the closer they got to their destination the greater Ezra’s sense of foreboding. Elinor too seemed to feel it – she looked over at him several times in confusion; her brow wrinkled, and her head cocked as if listening for some sound; elusive and faint.

They were about ten minutes away when Ezra heard the cry in his mind.

_Athena._

Elinor jerked and gasped.

“GO!” she screamed.

Thrawn whipped his head toward her, “What?”

“Athena!” her face had lost all color

Ezra shook his head violently to clear it, “We need to hurry!”

The Chiss turned to Dizon, “Captain!”

The stormtrooper had apparently been keeping tabs on the conversation because he had already put on a burst of speed, “Yes, sir. On it sir!”

“Major?” Thrawn activated the earpiece again.

“Yes, sir?”

“Make your way to Andrew Savona’s farm with all possible haste.”

“Yes sir!” Cran replied crisply, “Sir, you’ll likely get there before we do.”

“Understood, Major. Be prepared for hostile action when you do arrive.” The Grand Admiral’s eyes flared dangerously.

Cran swore colorfully under his breath, “Sir?”

“Harding was forewarned of our plans. Commander Klary would likely choose to take advantage of the situation perhaps with a significant force.”

“Understood, sir.”

 

They saw the fire from the access road.

Elinor screamed; Ezra and the Grand Admiral having all they could do to restrain her from stumbling out of the vehicle while it remained in motion. When the battered truck slammed to a stopped in the driveway, spitting gravel and an ominous cloud of dust, she flew out the passenger side and sprinted to the man laying spread-eagled in front of the house.

“DREW! DREW!” She sobbed. ”ANDREW!”

He didn’t respond with words so much as groans and winces as she looked down at his charred limbs. His sister hunched over him screaming tearfully, retching over the smell of his burned flesh.

“DREW I-I-I’LL GET HELP!”

He abruptly became painfully cognizant.

_Help._

_Yes, help._

_Athena needed help._

“Ellie. Ellie I’m sorry. They took ‘er.”

“DREW! DREW. I-I-I –“

The blaster shot startled her more than it posed a threat. Her dark eyes swept the area; what had been her home, her sanctuary, her glass of cold clear water when the heat of the world was too much.

Now her home - her _world_ was on fire.

The stormtroopers were moving to a defensive position from behind the burning barn, firing as they did so. Elinor stood and walked slowly toward them her lip curling in a venomous snarl.

She knew where it was.

Had felt the pull of it – envisioned the grip in her hand; reached for the image of it in her mind’s eye.

It came…

She vaguely heard Ezra’s cry of warning, felt his alarm at having his own lightsaber ripped away from him, somewhere in the back of her mind she could feel Thrawn’s dismay as the hilt of the young Jedi’s weapon landed in her outstretched hand.

She ran toward the five men at remarkable speed and fury – it was unlikely they had ever seen anything so surreal. The woman, filled with rage - for her home, her brother, her daughter – descended upon them slashing through armor and flesh, blood and bone.

It was over in seconds, but it would last so much longer in her nightmares. Every jab and cut, slash and stab would play over and over in her mind for years.

Elinor Savona was now a killer.

 

George Harding sighed contentedly.

His future was near.

He was awaiting Klary’s arrival in the hanger bay, almost giddy with excitement, sensing the power of the child being brought to him. The fact that her mother had become fully aware of her true capability by unleashing a giant volatile wave of emotion into their monotonous sea of existence was yet another victory. It would weaken Elinor, making her ripe for outside influence.

_His influence._

The troop transport settled down on the deck; the hiss of thrusters going dormant and then the ramp was lowered. The woman walked down, holding the child in both arms looking miserable.

Harding felt his eye brows quirk upward in question, “Commander? I see you were successful. Congratulations are in order.”

Klary grunted in ill-humor, “This thing –“ she motioned with her chin down to the now sleeping bundle in her arms, “ – vomited all over me.”

He struggled to keep is face neutral, “She is likely not used to space travel. It does take getting used to.”

Since it was obvious the Commander lacked a maternal side, Harding held out his arms, offering to take the child, “Allow me.”

She stepped away, “I think she’ll be spending the night in sick bay – under _guard_. We can’t have her _unprotected_ and I fear for her… _health_.”

The woman’s voice was icy, and her eyes pinned him with an amused stare.

“Very well,” his own spiteful gaze twisted into humor, “She must have thrown up quite a bit for you to be so concerned.”

Her eyes flashed in anger, but she let the comment slip as she marched toward the infirmary with Harding walking by her side. He described in abbreviated detail his distraction at the Vogue. She relayed the circumstances of the child’s discovery and he smirked, appreciating her methods – they were after all likely the reason Elinor had unleashed herself on the world, tapping into her true power and not some weak facsimile of it.

Medic Jenson was stunned to see the child, but immediately started a biometric assessment of her, promising Klary she would look after her and provide the Commander with updates if the little girl should display “unusual” behavior. Harding sensed no duplicitous intent and nodded to Klary his acceptance. Unfortunately, the Imperial had to take it one step further.

Klary smiled politely at Jenson, withdrawing her blaster and placing it on the exam table near the baby.

“Commander?” the medic asked confusedly.

“Medic Jenson, do you know what this is?” she pointed to the weapon.

“Yes ma’am, it’s an RK-3 blaster pistol.”

Klary smiled brightly, “Very good! Have you ever been shot by one?”

“No ma’am.” Jenson shook her head.

“If you tell anyone about the child, expect to gain that new experience, Medic.”

The other woman’s face paled noticeably, and Harding thought she would begin blubbering out of fear.

“Y-yes ma’am.”

“Good,” the Commander smiled politely again, “please keep me informed.”

“Y-yes, ma’am.”

 

Whittland cursed after tripping for the third time. The two armored eggs walking behind him were either learning from his mistakes or better at this sort of thing and laughing silently at his ineptitude. Either way the FBI agent was not a happy man.

His task was supposed to be simple. Find the downed ship. Make sure the pilot was dead. If she wasn’t dead, then he was to make her so.

_Piece of cake._

They’d been hunting for the damn thing for half hour when suddenly Thing 1 and Thing 2 got a call from the Commander. Time was up and they needed to head back to the mothership. While they were discussing their current situation with Klary his own ringer went off.

“Doug!” cried Caglioni, “You’ll never believe what just happened in Uptown. You need to get in here _now_!”

Whittland sighed in utter frustration, rolling his eyes in disbelief at his string of bad luck. How the hell did his damn phone get reception out in butt-fuck no-where?

“Matt, c’mon! I’m not fit for duty. I had three beers.” He grumbled, trying to slur his words.

“Seriously, man. No _one_ is going to give a shit – we had a terrorist attack or something. Bastards took out the Vogue!”

_Well fuck._

“I’ll be there when I sober up!” Whittland snapped.

“Get in here _now_. Take a cab! The boss is calling everyone. It’s all hands on – “

He hung up on his partner and continued to walk toward the area; hopefully the final resting place of the fighter and Crissa Pyrondi.

“Hold,” one of the stormtroopers stopped him with an upraised hand, “Commander Klary would like us to return to the launch site.”

“Knock yourselves out.” Whittland rumbled.

“You are to report to the launch site with us.”

He squinted at the trooper, “Whadda ‘bout the fighter?” he gestured to the expansive woods in front of them.

“The Commander said she wanted to send a message by leaving it out here.” The man’s filtered voice sounded mildly confused, as if he didn’t have all the information and really didn’t _want_ it.

The FBI agent could relate.

Simple was always better.

_But what if Pyrondi survived?_

She’d probably never walk again; would probably eat food out of straw for the rest of her life. The thought amused Whittland and he laughed despite himself.

“Yeah, alright, sure. Let’s go boys.” He turned to look through the trees one last time, “Maybe she’ll get lucky and a bear will get her.”

 

There was something in his voice that made the Major look over at Yermentic. She had apparently heard it too because she mirrored his own worried expression. The Grand Admiral’s voice lacked its usual crisp surety. It was robotic, tired and strained.

“Dr. Yermentic will stay as will any resources she deems appropriate. Major, you will begin a search and rescue operation. Details will be forthcoming when you arrive.”

There was no pause for the appropriate ‘yes, sir’ – a confirmation that his orders were received and understood, and the passengers in the SUV already on heightened alert were resorting to speculations.

“Maybe his head injury was worse than they thought?” Yates ventured softly.

Yermentic shook her head absently, “You’d have a better chance of cracking the Chimaera’s hull than you would of breaking that man’s skull.”

“Maybe the baby?” Cran whispered ominously

The CMO glance darkly at the Major who was already driving as fast as possible on the treacherously rough roads. Their vehicle finally burst through the last cluster of trees and they saw why their Grand Admiral had sounded so demoralized and crestfallen.

What had once been green field was rolling flame. Where once stood a barn, was the blackened outline of the husk being licked by a fire’s death throes.

There was a time when every one of the Imperials had admired the pastoral scene; it reminded each of them of their own part of the galaxy. A tree here – like the ones on Corellia, a flower there – like those from the garden domes on Coruscant; the cows so resonant of Alderaan’s grazers…

It all lay burning before them.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi,
> 
> Yeah. I know. I didn't like it either. I'm sorry.
> 
> The good news is - there's a final confrontation come up...Thrawn wasn't sitting around with his thumbs up his arse doing nothing...yeah he screwed up royally but he's been planning and he's got an engineer and he knows how to use her!
> 
> Wow...I made myself blush with that...  
> Gotta go! Bye! LOL


	59. Penance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning:  
> None, maybe a little NSFW...
> 
> In This Chapter:  
> “Over here! I’ve found the crash site!”  
> The coast is clear at the Lambda  
> Yermentic calls it  
> Ezra's mistakes  
> Thrawn knows that Klary knows about the Lambda...  
> ...Dizon is going to be a guinea pig for what exactly?  
> Elinor's equation  
> Harding muses and checks on Athena  
> Thrawn lost more  
> The sapphire  
> The embarrassing art of distraction: Enter Rick Haines.  
> Tela and the droids  
> Jenson confides in an engineer; Tela agrees to hide Athena  
> Pyrondi and Drew recover: a sitcom.  
> Completed work  
> Poetry and Schubert  
> Gone

 

She didn’t look up.

“Over here! I’ve found the crash site!”

Her neck was held in place and the thick red water was still dripping down her face. She hated the water; hated the way it made her skin crawl. Some pooled into the corners of her mouth and it tasted terrible, almost like –

_Blood!_

That’s what the water was called!

“Crissa!?” a man’s voice, “Crissa! Damn it, Crissa?”

She mumbled an apology because the voice sounded familiar and she knew she should have known who it was, but she couldn’t recall the name. She opened her eyes to find the man standing next to her while several others hovered around her wrapping her in something warm, there was a slight jab in her arm. She inhaled and opened her eyes wider.

“Th-Thae?” she rasped.

“Lieutenant Commander Pyrondi, you are a damn pain in the ass. Do you understand me! You’re Huttese sucks vacuum and you’re going to kriffing live so that I can explain to _you_ in further detail why you’re enough to piss off a Ho’Din monk!” the man was trembling

She slurred out another apology through lips that would only move to accommodate every other word, punctuating it with a “sir.”

“Don’t give me that Bantha shit!” Cran barked, “don’t _sir_ me– you get your scrawny ass up _now_!”

Thankfully Pyrondi didn’t see him faulter and didn’t see the tears well up in the man’s eyes. Were they tears of relief, rage, fear – Cran wasn’t even quite sure. The Major had Wilton and Ovally move the portable repulsor sled to the U-Haul.

They would take her back to the shuttle. Hopefully there would be something to go back to. If there wasn’t, they would have to take her to a native hospital and hope for the best. Of course, if Yermentic ruled it bad…they could only make her comfortable.

Cran fervently hoped he would be able to continue swearing at his friend in Huttese and she would get angry enough to stay alive, either by his poor syntax or his vulgar words.

 

Toldera, Yates, Dizon, Tobevoh, Thrawn and Ezra had carefully, silently approached the site. The Chiss having the advantage of being able to see in low light led the way, indicating to the others with hand gestures to fan out around the Lambda. When all the Imperials were in position, the Grand Admiral nodded to the young Jedi and stepped out into the clearing. Ezra focused on the area around Thrawn as he walked casually to the shuttle.

He looked around the little ship, the settings of the landing mechanism and the underside where the wings folded up toward the body. He motioned for Ezra who soundlessly jumped up into the trees hiding the main body of the craft from above, moving from limb to limb he was able to look down onto the Lambda, checking for tracking or listening devises.

There were none and the Jedi sensed no immediate danger.

 

In the end the math worked out such that both would fit in the same tank – it was a rather large single occupant tube – they had enough bacta for continued treatment and the chance of success would be greater, but they would have to be shoved inside the same tube.

Since their relationship was the worst kept secret in the Imperial camp, Yermentic thought neither would mind. For the first few hours, both clung to life while they were pressed together. The CMO had to mix the bacta thicker than usually due to the significant damage to flesh; the two lovers were suspended in an embrace by slimy life-saving goo.

After seven hours, Crissa Pyrondi was cleared – she would, for certain, live.

It took two additional hours for Yermentic to say with certainty that Andrew Savona would also survive his physical wounds. He would require prosthetic knees.

No one wanted to broach the subject of Elinor.

 

Ezra walked out into the fading night. The beginning light of dawn was just starting to creep through the trees, and he reached out to the Force, focusing on the emptiness. He moved toward it carefully, serenely not wanting to exacerbate what could have the potential to be a fatal blow.

The young Jedi knew she had likely felt the tangible relief around the shuttle when Yermentic had made the call that both Pyrondi and her brother would live. It reverberated through the others. It was the only brightness in the massive failure at ceasefire, making it clear that Harding was too dangerous to be left to his own devises.

Unfortunately, they failed to eliminate him as a threat and Thrawn either didn’t see or underestimated Harding’s affiliation with Greta Klary.

_Or did he?_

Ezra hadn’t noted any hint of surprise coming from the Chiss upon discovering his daughter had been abducted only sadness and a strong sense of resolve; like a puzzle piece was now in place and the next step, although difficult, would need to begin.

He shook his head to clear it, not wanting her to glean his line of thought, though he doubted she would be looking. Ezra doubted she wanted to reach out to anyone _or_ anything at the moment. Elinor was for all intents and purposes, blank.

Where she stood gazing out at the trees there was emptiness – her attempt to hide herself from everything. She did it well. Her own daughter hadn’t even been able to reach her and that was before Elinor’s self-imposed isolation.

Only in searching for the vacancy was the Jedi able to find her.

“Ezra?” she called softly.

“Yes?”

“What have I done?”

He approached, coming slowly to stand next to her. He was silent for a long moment, trying hard to phrase some words of comfort, something inspiring, something that would let her know that he too, had made costly mistakes.

His mistakes had hurt others; had taken him dangerously close to places he shuttered to think of. How could he relay to her these things?

The best way to ward off failure was to begin by talking about what went wrong – that included his own missteps.

And so, he began.

 

Thrawn glanced between Cran, Dizon and Tobevoh waiting for some indication that the three men would argue the point. He didn’t have to wait long.

“Sir, with all due respect, this is the back-side of a Bantha crazy.” The Grand Admiral had to smile slightly. Cran was always the first to voice his opinion; usually in a colorful manner.

“On the contrary Major, it will confuse and distract the enemy.”

“That’s assuming they know about the shuttle, sir?” Tobevoh looked unconvinced.

“They know, Commander. Either Harding learned of it by his early mental interrogations of Elinor or Klary found the site during the attack. At least one of them knows we have retrofitted our Lambda to look and perform exactly like the other.”

Dizon sighed, “Alright, so we confuse and distract them with the shuttles, sir. How are we going to deal with the transport? Our weapons cache is depleted and it’s going to take some serious armament.”

“Armament and stealth, yes. Possibly subterfuge as well” Thrawn agreed.

The three looked at the Chiss waiting for an explanation.

“We have several options before us and some untapped resources,” the Grand Admiral cocked his head in thought, “Major, please request Mr. Haines join us here at his earliest convenience.”

Cran wrinkled his brow but set off to his task, muttering about Haines having less couth than a nerf mite. Dizon, obviously enjoying the others discomfort over his assignment smirked until Thrawn shot him a knowing smile.

“Captain?”

_Uh oh_.

“Do you still consume – what is it called?“ the glowing red eyes narrowed in thought, “Jerky?”

“Uhh, yes sir?”

“Would it, as a consumable, disguise a poison?”

Dizon blinked realizing belatedly that his mouth was ajar, and he likely looked stupidly flummoxed over the Grand Admiral’s line of questioning. The stormtrooper Captain was about to tell him that the preserved meat was not a good vehicle for biowarfare when Tobevoh beat him to the punch.

“Sir, I don’t think that jerky would hold any type of solid or liquid coating well. It would be ineffectual as a means of transporting a toxin.”

Thrawn nodded in understanding but continued, “Rest easy gentlemen, I am only speaking in hypotheticals, I do not wish to use poison in foodstuffs. My interest is in… _distraction_.”

Dizon and Tobevoh looked at each other.

“Captain, I would like you to test the process.”

“Uh, ok – uh yes, sir.”

“Do not worry, Captain. There will be no permanent harm to you _physically_.”

 

The sun was already high in the sky by the time he finished his explanation. Elinor sat and listened, patiently watching him and there were several instances where he felt her reach out tentatively to him through the Force; a comforting sign and act of solidarity.

She feared for her daughter and knew that in order to get Athena back, she might have to give up much more than she ever thought possible.

Most mothers would gladly give their lives for their children. Elinor was no exception to what some would call an instinct, but she was becoming increasingly aware that there were fates _significantly_ worse than death and that she could suffer one or a dozen of those, just by attempting to see her daughter again.

Elinor Savona had determined it no longer mattered and that was why she was once again, hiding.

The hurt, fear, and anger, the final realization caused was so traumatic she didn’t wish anyone to see – not even Thrawn. Once he knew the malady, Ezra could hazily see through the defenses she placed, and he felt the overwhelming sadness of someone certain their fate was sealed.

“You still have choices.”

“How so?” there was skepticism in her voice.

“You can choose how this plays out. You can choose how to handle it.”

she looked at him questioningly, “But the end will be the same.”

“You can change that too.” He said earnestly

She shook her head sadly, “Ezra, I’ve had dreams for as long as I can remember. At least some part of them always comes true.”

“ _Some_ part - maybe you’re not seeing the whole picture.” The Jedi objected lightly.

“I don’t _want_ to see the whole picture if it means I have to watch Thrawn die after getting stabbed in the chest by a lightsaber. I don’t _want_ to watch Harding steal my daughter from me!” she felt the familiar sting of heat behind her eyes and the stirring of the cold rage that had turned her into a murderer.

He nodded slowly, gazing at her strangely, “Sometimes we need to look closely at what we don’t want to focus on so that we may really truly see it.”

Elinor said nothing; her teacher finally understood.

“You think if you participate, you’ll complete the dream. You’ll make whatever it is that you saw happen!” Ezra gasped, his face contorting in a confused sort of wretchedness, “and your solution to all of it is to _hide_ and live only half a life…”

She didn’t respond directly to his epiphany; instead she let out a shaky breath, turned to him; meeting his eyes.

“I appreciate everything you’ve done Ezra, I really do, but this is where we part ways.”

His eyes flashed with something akin to frustration, “So what? You’re just giving up?”

“No.”

“Then what?”

She looked out through the trees and sighed, “I’m going to rewrite the whole damn equation.”

 

Whether it was because he was so focused on the power that was before him; the blue skinned, red eyed baby girl sought to make life difficult for anyone she thought was a threat to her; or whether it was the distraction of Klary’s saber rattling that caused him to miss it, Harding could no longer sense Elinor.

_She was gone._

It was not the sudden extinguishing of candle light but rather a slow steady decline in the familiar ripple – like a sunset. If he had thought her capable of hiding so completely, he would have taken the time to reach out, piercing the space between them as a reminder to her that she was not alone.

_Never alone._

But now she was gone. And Harding did not like the idea at all. Elinor was certainly alive; her death would have sent blasts and ripples that would have been felt by the child and himself for days afterward.

No, she had just vanished completely.

He knew her capable of being elusive and difficult to pin down; had found their mental cat-and-mouse games almost erotic. But Harding was certainly not expecting _this_ , and he found himself being not only impressed, once again, with her but also his choice in her. She would be a perfect companion for the long road ahead. But what followed his self-congratulations was utter frustration.

_Only gods consorted with gods._

She was not meant to isolate herself from _him_ so completely.

After cooling his emotional response to what seemed to be a slight, he reasoned Elinor would eventually seek him out. He after all, had Athena.

Harding’s thoughts were interrupted by the wails of the child as he entered sick bay. Medic Jenson turned apologetically to him, sagging in mild relief that he was not the Commander with her blaster in hand.

“I’m sorry, sir. She was content until just a moment ago,” the woman picked up the crying baby at a loss for the sudden change in behavior.

He chuckled, “It’s quite alright Medic, I understand she doesn’t yet care for me.”

“Perhaps you’d like to hold her, sir?”

Harding snorted, “Not at this time.”

Indeed, the girl was likely to bite him if she had the teeth to do it.

_So much like her mother._

“I just stopped by to make sure you have everything you require.” He continued, scanning the area for anything out of place.

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” Jenson smiled kindly, “With one exception and Engineering has been called to fix it.” And as if realizing her statement needed further clarification to support her prolonged existence her eyes widened, and she gulped. “Ah – in the main sick bay, sir. No one would see or hear her.”

He smiled knowingly, “Of course.”

She bobbed her head in relief. Apparently, the Commander’s threat had been taken to heart.

“Well, if you require anything, I’m sure you may reach out to Commander Klary. She or I will ensure you get whatever you need to care for her.” He said gesturing to the child who was slowly calming in the medic’s arms.

“Yes sir. Thank you, sir.”

He nodded and turned to leave.

“Uh, sir?”

He turned back.

“Do you know what her name is? I’ve been referring to her as ‘Baby’ but that doesn’t seem to do her justice.”

He sneered and the woman cringed away, “It does not, does it?” he paused wondering if the medic would ever understand the significance of the events playing out around her, “Her name is Athena. She was named after a goddess, treat her as such.”

“Yes, sir.”

 

Elinor avoided him like she avoided everyone.

He believed it to be due to a combination of her shame and his monumental failure to not anticipate the scope and breadth of the force Klary had brought to bear to abduct their daughter.

He knew the Commander suffered from hubris and was fully expecting her to try to win with as few pieces on the playing board as possible. To defeat Thrawn with so little resources would be quite satisfying and would also go a long way in keeping the dirty little secret that was her self-led mutiny hidden.

The Grand Admiral had fully expected her to learn a hard lesson by her failed attempt and try again during their effort to gain passage to the Chimaera, by which time Athena would be safely hidden elsewhere.

Alas, the Commander had come out, guns blazing anticipating the worst possible situation – likely Harding’s influence.

Andrew Savona and Lieutenant Commander Pyrondi had done amazingly well.

Klary’s pride was somewhat sated but at great cost to her command – no doubt the stormtrooper Captains had observed her ineffectualness and the brutality she used in an effort to cover up her ineptitude.

There was always a cost in war. For all sides. It was only relative as to who won by _losing_ less.

Klary lost.

Thrawn lost more.

Two beings; one under his command, the other a civilian combatant, and dare he say it – _family?_ – lay in bacta after walking next to death. Their stock of weapons and supplies were precariously low. Elinor, whose confidence in her abilities had been steadily increasing, had been ripped from herself and was now in hiding from everyone including him. And his daughter…

His daughter was in the hands of a madman who wanted to use her abilities to gain more and more power.

The Chiss sighed.

It was time to pull Elinor out of hiding.

He strode down the shuttle ramp, looking from side to side and listening. He did not hear the hum of lightsabers and had to remind himself that she no longer had hers.

_Another_ _loss._

He sighed again.

Turning to travel the path up the knoll where she and Ezra Bridger would usually sit in council, he was only mildly surprised to see the young Jedi waiting for him.

“Bridger,” He nodded.

“Thrawn.”

There was a long pause and one of the Grand Admiral’s eye brows arched in question. Ezra pursed his lips and shook his head, muttering something.

“Excuse me?”

“You know that’s really annoying, right?”

Thrawn’s brow twitched again.

“What is annoying?”

The boy pointed to the other’s forehead, “ _That_.”

This time both brows moved upward in either surprise or amusement.

“Explain.”

The young Jedi tilted his head back and rolled his eyes exaggeratedly, “Ugh, _never mind_! What do you want?”

Both brows collapsed, supporting Thrawn’s scowl, “Where is Elinor?”

Bridger stopped and looked at the Chiss, his own forehead wrinkling in confusion, “She’s not with you?”

The Jedi hastily shook his head, knowing he would get the “why-would-I-be-here-asking-you” look from the Grand Admiral, and he wasn’t sure he could take much more of Thrawn’s stupid eyebrows, “I meant, I thought she was with you.”

“No.”

Ezra shook his head slightly, “Last time I saw her she was over by the creek bed,” he pointed in that direction, “she said she was going to go to the shuttle to get a few things.”

Without another word, the alien turned and headed toward the as-indicated area. As he watched him go, the young Jedi found himself unconsciously mimicking the questioning facial expression of his one-time-enemy; what he had long ago dubbed “the eyebrow look.”

Ezra stopped shook his head and wrinkled his nose trying to straighten out his expression – but found it somehow contort back.

 

He found her hunched over a rock, obviously working on something requiring a great deal of hand-eye-coordination. He watched her for several minutes, not wanting to startle her or interrupt the delicate work. She had her hair pulled back behind her head so it wouldn’t fall into her eyes; occasionally making frustrated little motions with her neck when a strand would come loose.

Elinor turned her head slightly and smiled thinly

_Stars, why shine?_

_There is no light without you by my side_

_Without my Beloved beside me_

_There is only darkness without you_

She had been working on her Cheunh, reciting their poem in the wee hours of the night when she thought he was asleep. He slowly detached himself from his shadowy hiding spot and moved closer to her, searching her face for the answer to the obvious question.

“Are you well?”

She bobbed her head, “Yes.”

She didn’t elaborate. He looked down at what she had been working on. It was the cylinder that gave it away; otherwise the smaller pieces – lenses, diodes, caps and parts of a power cell would be indicative of any number of small devices. He mentally shook his head at the woman’s ingenuity.

“You are building a new lightsaber.”

Elinor watched him carefully as he turned back to her. She said nothing; did not acknowledge or deny that the bits of metal on the rock in front of them were being manufactured into a weapon.

He nodded slowly understanding some of what he was seeing – a lens to focus the beam, a power cell, a mounting bracket to keep the crystal in place above the cell…

“Where did you get the crystal?”

Thrawn was surprised by the flash of emotion that flickered across her face. She continued to keep her eyes on him as she raised the back of her left hand facing him. Her delicate fingers were splayed open. The ring Andrew Savona had insisted he give to her, as it was a cultural norm for those in a committed relationship, was no longer on her finger.

_Did she think he would be offended?_

He smiled slightly and nodded once, “Which stone did you use?”

“The sapphire.” she smiled slightly looking up at him, “It seemed to…call out.”

Thrawn grazed her cheek with his knuckles, leaning down closer to her.

“Appropriate.”

 

Rick Haines was a practical joker. If someone were to write a history on the modern-day practical prank, Rick would be considered the father – no, the godfather – of jest. The problem was, everyone knew all the tricks.

Take the “Laxative prank” – mix a little in coffee creamer, mix it in any kind of sauce, pour it over ice cream…No one fell for it anymore because despite the fact that they had managed to split the atom and put a man on the moon _no one_ could make milk of magnesia taste like anything other than shit.

You’d have to be from a different _planet_ to fall for something like that!

Rick smiled evilly.

“So, Mr. Grand Admiral, sir, how can I help you?”

The alien stared dolefully at him, “Elinor has informed me on more than one occasion that you specialize in mildly harmless subterfuge.”

“If that’s a polite way of saying I’m annoying as fuck, then yeah!”

“That could be of some benefit to us.” Thrawn waved toward one of the Imperials who stepped forward looking extremely uncomfortable, “We wish to distract a large number of people simultaneously with –“ the Grand Admiral paused, “ – very _personal,_ _natural_ issues.”

“Ah, gotcha! Ok, I got something in mind – so you want to know how to get it into the horse?”

Thrawn bowed his head slightly, “I believe I understand your meaning and yes, we require an appropriate method of –“ he wrinkled his brow in thought, “ _placing_ it.”

“Who’s the intended target?” Rick asked casually.

There was a slight shifting of feet, “Sir, I don’t think he needs to know this!”

Rick chuckled, “How much you use is dependent on the number of people and how restrictive their diet is.”

“I do not see any harm in informing Mr. Haines of the specifics, Major. I believe Captain Dizon will provide an adequate test case since he meets all standard stormtrooper requisites.”

The Major stilled and the other man that had previously stepped forward looked like he was going to shrivel up into a tiny ball.

“Have you adjusted your diet, Captain?”

“Yes, sir,” the man sounded utterly defeated.

He couldn’t help but laugh heartily, “Dude, are you sure you know what you’re getting yourself into?”

The three of them looked at him, like _he_ was the one volunteering to take Super-Lax for _shits_ and giggles. The pun made him laugh even harder as did the Captain’s face.

_Damn, these guys were seriously determined._

 

The Engineering lab had seen better days. Some of its best days were, ironically when Elinor Savona was aboard, despite the ship being in such a terrible state, things seemed to work smoothly then.

Commander Dalen Tela was _not_ Elinor Savona.

He was competent, but he didn’t have that elusive quality she seemed to have to bring the teams together and inspire them. Of course, without the Grand Admiral, _everything_ was falling apart.

He winced at the thought.

He was no Elinor and Klary was no Thrawn.

The closer someone got to that point the closer you’d come to the realization that, that particular someone was no longer around to make that particular point again.

Tela had been tasked with fixing Thrawn’s old sentry droids – the two he would spar with. Greta Klary had sworn to him they were simply for protection; she feared a coup aboard the Chimaera and the safety of her troopers could be in jeopardy if her command fell.

So shocked by her candid confession of concern, he eagerly agreed to piece together the droids, choosing to leave their initial programming intact. He even checked several times to ensure the defensive features were in place – if the droids detected blaster fire, they would attack the perpetrator unless their initial programming command codes were employed. The only one familiar with those directives was the Grand Admiral himself.

He had to believe that Thrawn or Captain Pellaeon would return someday, and the droids were, in the meantime something to protect the sanctity of Imperial command.

In hindsight, Tela hated that he’d been so gullible.

One particularly grueling day, after the tractor beam had _finally_ been fixed, the bio-lines on Deck 29 started leaking – this had been an old problem; predating the battle over Lothal and would have been a no-never-mind had it not been for the limited scope walkdown edict put down by Klary. After cleaning up waste all day, Tela was called to Klary’s office – no, he corrected himself mentally – Thrawn’s office.

One of the droids had a malfunctioning limb and needed to be tuned.

While checking gears and servos, that’s when Dalen noticed all the blood.

Those droids were not just for protection. They had been for someone’s sick entertainment and given that Klary was indeed no Thrawn in more ways than one (she certainly could never handle herself around an armed sentry droid!) Tela had no other choice but to believe the Commander was using them to exact some form of retaliation on those she saw as threats.

He had dutifully fixed the little motors, tuning up both droids while he was there, but upon his return to the lab, he relieved the contents of his stomach – too disgusted with himself for not seeing it sooner and for not finding some way to disable the droids.

_What do I do, though?_

The question had plagued him for days afterward. Inaction was not possible; he couldn’t sit idly by while she murdered. But even if he were to sabotage the droids, he wouldn’t stop her slaughter and he’d likely get himself killed too.

He was involved whether he wanted to be or not – Commander Greta Klary had taken that choice away…Then again, he was in the Imperial Navy – did any of them really have a choice?

Say what you wanted, you were _always_ given a choice – the difference was, the Grand Admiral made it easy to make the correct one.

Tela sighed coming out of his reverie as he entered the sick bay, feeling the all-too-familiar stab of grief. Tabitha Yermentic was gone – her disappearance was yet one more loss conversed over in whispers. Doctor Bastilis had also gone missing but his departure was met with ambivalence; he had been like a mynock in a porg’s nest – just plain _weird._

Dalen shook his head to clear it and noticed Medic Jenson the acting head of sick bay striding briskly to meet him.

“Hello Commander, thank you for coming!” she smiled hesitantly.

“Of course, ma’am.”

“The hydraulic unit is over here,” she motioned him to follow her away from the area she just came but Jenson’s eyes flicked worriedly back over her shoulder.

“Is everything alright, Medic?”

She stopped and blinked, finally looking at him carefully, “Yes, Dalen, everything is fine,” Her voice cracked.

“Are you sure, Mira?”

The medic looked up at him, her eyes watery, “Commander Tela, how well did you know Elinor Savona?”

The engineer gapped at her and for a moment worked to collect himself; “Uh, I had the privilege of knowing her quite well while she was here,” be bobbed his head.

“I didn’t get that opportunity, although the poor thing did have her fair share of visits into sick bay.”

Tela smiled slightly, “Why do you ask?”

Mira Jenson’s watery eyes turned red around the edges, “I -I, well –“ she sighed, “just out of curiosity, really,” She stammered. “You see there was a rumor going around that she and the Grand Admiral…”

Dalen arched an eyebrow. The medic had never struck him as someone with anti-alien opinions; perhaps she was disgusted that Elinor and Thrawn had been lovers?

“So what?” he growled.

Her eyes widened, “Then it’s true?”

“So, what if it is?” Tela shrugged putting some disgust in his voice, “They obviously loved each other. I’m not going to begrudge anyone that and I trust you not to judge too –“

“Tela!” Jenson cried in surprise, “Stop!”

Dalen closed his mouth so quickly and abruptly that his lip made a plopping noise. He looked confusedly at her and began to assemble his next query when she motioned for him to follow her; back the way she had come from when he first entered sick bay.

He shook his head and left his tool bag on the floor. He hurried to keep up with her while he still struggled to understand her line of questioning and strange behavior. Had she found a clue as to what had happened to Savona? Or the Grand Admiral?

“Medic Jenson, what’s going on?” he asked frustratedly as they rounded a corner into the very back of the medical wing.

She shushed him, “She’s asleep.”

“Who’s sleeping back here, there’s nothing but supplies and –“ he gasped, “ – Ohh.”

“Now do you know why I asked?”

“Yes.” He mumbled as he stared as the baby napping peacefully.

There was a long pause.

“Well?” she prompted.

“Well, what?”

“What do we do?” she motioned furtively with her eyes back the way they had come.

Tela opened his mouth to say something; closed it again after scratching his head in confusion, “What do you want me to do, Mira? I’m an engineer! I can’t do much except maybe hide her in the event things go to all Nine Hells.”

This seemed to relax the medic a little, “You’ll hide her if something bad happens?”

“Of course, I owe her mother at least that and her father is _obviously_ our commanding officer.”

She sighed sorrowfully, “Good, because I won’t be able to help her if I get shot.”

 

Tabitha Yermentic pursed her lips at her two patients. She remembered watching a holo-comedy about a clueless couple, Toni and Rolla, kept getting each other into trouble unwittingly. In one episode the two unknowingly wandered into the rancor den at a zoo, while the creatures were napping.

The doctor could not for the life of her remember what made it hysterically funny at the time. Perhaps it was the stereotypes, and the puns or the way the two argued about who was at fault for the speeder accident despite the impending threat of being devoured by grotesque beasts.

Andrew and Crissa were the new Toni and Rolla.

And they were _adorable_.

“Hey babe, ya wanna hand me some more a tha’ there Jell-O, please?”

“What did you call me?” Pyrondi craned her neck carefully at Drew, her brow furrowed in question or pain, Yermentic couldn’t tell which.

“Uh, babe?”

“What does _that_ mean?”

“ ‘S short for baby.” Drew smirked at her.

Yermentic was aware, as was Crissa that it was a term of endearment, by the Lieutenant Commander was apparently bored and wanted to have some fun with the man in the bed next to hers.

“You think I’m a _baby_?” Pyrondi said in mock outrage, “I fell out of the _kriffing_ sky, for hells sake!”

“Ok, ok, calm down, _babe_.”

Yermentic rolled her eyes and walked away. It was about to get loud, but she didn’t mind the noise. It was significantly better than the nauseating silence that had filled the compartment while the two floated between life and death.

Tabitha would take the Toni and Rolla episode-like silliness any day.

 

Third time’s a charm or so the adage went. Elinor had tightened the activator and adjusted the lenses, making sure once again that the sapphire was seated properly, and the power cell was aligned with the channel. She had to scavenge for the insulator, literally pulling some out of the guts of the Lambda when Ovally wasn’t looking – she didn’t need much. The shuttle wouldn’t miss it, her new lightsaber however, needed an inert medium around the power cell.

She put the small tool down and breathed a sigh of relief. The last tweak was done and with any luck…Elinor picked up the cylinder and inspected the outside coverings - one of the older towels they had used to wrap Athena with immediately after she was born had been ripped into strips – Ellie used a few to bind the hilt, creating an easy grip.

She looked around her. There was no one, it had grown dark and she had brought one of the lanterns out to work by. No one would see her; no one would hear.

She activated it.

The dark blue of the blade flared to life and she listened to its hum. Moving the blade back and forth, then holding it perpendicular to her chest, slowly bringing the hilt up while feeling the thrum of it through her.

She began to move.

The lightsaber seemed to adjust to her motion; account for her physical inadequacies – the slight weakness in her left wrist when she turned it down or the way her right shoulder curved inward to protect her chest when she entered a defensive posture.

Ezra had told her once that the amethysts in the two he had created called to him. She finally understood what the Jedi had meant because Ellie felt the sapphire do the same. The closer she came to the conclusion that she needed to build a new lightsaber, it was almost a compulsion to use the blue stone from her mother’s ring.

_It belonged._

After several more spins and cuts she stopped, pleased with what seemed to be an extension of herself – that was something else Ezra said too…Elinor smiled. She deactivated the blade.

Seeing movement, she glanced up.

“It is impressive.”

She smiled teasingly, “It’s not the biggest thing I’ve built. Would you believe I was abducted and forced to fix a giant space ship?”

“If I wanted you abducted, you would not be here,” he commented dryly. “You were never _forced_ to fix the Chimaera but were told to restore what had been damaged. The fact that you attempted to correct well known design flaws was not part of my initial _request_.”

“Hm, you should have known better,” She smirked at him.

“Indeed.”

He cupped her face in his hands and looked down at her, “Come. You should rest.”

“Later,” she moved closer to him and arched up to press her lips to his.

“Later?”

“Later,” she confirmed solemnly.

 

They complemented each other perfectly in every way. She would retreat, allowing him to advance; both hating the empty space between them during the transition. Just her sighs brought him pleasure; hers was in seeing him above her, eyes on fire and full of devotion.

The carefully constructed shield she had made for herself had almost shattered when she fell over the edge and he confessed his love as he buried himself into her warmth while she cried for him; begging him to join her. In the end, her armor held.

They whispered reassurances to each other in the night. Everything would work out in their favor. They would make things right again. He lay next to her, falling asleep to the sound of her voice reciting their poem; humming Schubert to himself.

_Stars, why shine?_

_There is no light without you by my side_

_Without my Beloved beside me_

_There is only darkness without you_

 

In the morning Elinor was gone.

She had taken her new lightsaber.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello,
> 
> Just wanted to point out "Chapter 50: Present" which goes into Klary's use of those nasty sentinel droids...come to find out Tela didn't do much other than put them back together. Original programing assumed to be in place here so I assumed something...what would you want in a kick ass droid? If someone started shooting, you'd want it to zero in on whomever was doing the shooting and do its ass kicking...just a thought.
> 
> Also, you know how I said there was less silliness...um, I forgot about the...distraction.
> 
> Hey, score two points for Thrawn being inventive and using what's available, right?  
> He's also taking advantage of a weakness: delicate little Imperial gastrointestinal systems.
> 
> Yeah yeah yeah I know. Terrible.   
> Thanks for you're continued patience, enthusiasm and...why are you still here?????? :) :) :) seriously thanks!


	60. Captain's Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning:  
> Violence, Language
> 
> In This Chapter:  
> Betrayal  
> A rough week  
> Dream nexus  
> Dizon's false alarm  
> Whittland's week ain't getting any better  
> A surprise for George Harding  
> The best job on the planet  
> Seeing the Chimaera again  
> The mystery that is Elinor Savona  
> Dizon's super power  
> Caught with ((cough cough)) their pants down  
> Cran places the jamming device on Klary's Lambda  
> Payback's a b!tch  
> Tela's theory  
> The return of Captain Pellaeon.

 

Ezra Bridger was not happy, that much was apparent from the way his piercing gaze followed the Chiss accusingly as the Grand Admiral made his final preparations, taking stock of weaponry, interviewing the other Imperial’s, confirming the jamming and broadcasting equipment Elinor had worked on was ready. The young Jedi hadn’t expected to feel so – what, exactly?

_Betrayed._

He knew what Thrawn was all along – _a monster_.

Elinor had left lightsaber in hand, and he had _known_. The man who should have been on her side, her protector, her champion – the first one trying to convince her _not_ to fall on her sword was the one to shrug his shoulders and move on. The Grand Admiral had known all along what she had intended; had probably maneuvered her into it.

_Monster._

And what of Ezra himself?

He had played his part beautifully! He had trained her and made her a suitable target. The Jedi had fallen for the monster’s ploy; choosing to believe the villain cared for her when in reality the Chiss only cared for one thing and one thing only.

Getting back to his Emperor and his Empire.

He suspected all along that Thrawn would not take Elinor back with him to the Empire even after Athena and now with the Imperial warlord’s complacency in her self-defeating spiral he would be free.

Ezra could barely contain his frustration, having to draw upon the Force to calm himself several times. The Chiss apparently saw his struggle.

“Jedi Bridger,” He rumbled. “I will require your support in jamming the transmissions from the ground forces. Lieutenant Commander Pyrondi and Andrew Savona will remain behind to support the broadcast.”

He stared balefully at Thrawn. Those strange red eyes suddenly narrowed.

“A moment, please.”

Several heads popped up to look between the Grand Admiral and the boy, there was a grumble from Major Thae Cran – as there always was, and the other Imperials funneled out of the main area of the shuttle.

“You are upset because Elinor left.”

A statement.

“You can say that.” Ezra bit out

Thrawn cocked his head to the side, “I do not understand.”

“You knew she was going to do this!” Ezra snapped, “You don’t care that she may die in the attempt!”

Thrawn’s eyes flashed and a low growl escaped him as he stepped toward the other; the Jedi subconsciously shifting his hand toward his belt, near his lightsaber.

“Be very careful with your assumptions Ezra Bridger.”

“I don’t have to assume! I know you knew she would go. I know you’re not upset to see her leave.”

“That is correct.”

“She’s going on a fool’s quest, Thrawn!”

“No. You are indeed correct that I knew she would go. I am gratified to see she has taken the initiative to find our daughter, but I will not lose the opportunity to capitalize on her incentive.”

_What?_

Ezra cocked his head, “Wait, what?”

“You cannot sense her, can you?” Thrawn looked cautiously at him now.

The young Jedi shook his head slowly.

“Good.” Thrawn smiled slowly, “Very good. Neither can Harding.”

 

It had been a shitty few days. The Uptown debacle had ruled national news – international news, even! The damn President had come into town to give some stupid speech, probably blaming the “terrorist attack” on foreigners and illegal aliens.

Agent Whittland snorted.

And how close the knuckle dragging, mouth breathing idiot was, too!

An _alien_ did cause the Vogue to blow up. It really was a visitor from another world that had destroyed Whittland’s simplistic life. He had to work all damn week – 18-hour days because some blue skin, red eyed freak of nature had come to the planet in a giant hollow arrow-head with lasers mounted on it.

He was about to sit down for a Sunday morning beer (because it’s happy hour somewhere!) when the commlink Commander Klary gave him started to chirp annoyingly. Whittland was not a patient human being; all four of his ex-wives would attest to that, but even he was pleased with the civility he used to answer the devise.

“WHAT?” he screamed.

“Mr. Whittland?” the sound was instantly ball shriveling.

The FBI agent wilted, “Yes ma’am?”

“I take it you’ve had a rough week?”

He gritted his teeth at the teasing note in her voice, “Yes, ma’am.”

“I’m sorry to hear it,” but she didn’t sound sorry at all, “Unfortunately I have a task for you.”

Whittland sighed giving the beer one last longing look before grabbing his jacket, “Yes, ma’am?”

“You are familiar with the location of our troop transport, are you not?”

“Yes, ma’am, I am.”

“Ah good.” The amusement in her voice likely stemmed from the fact that she had hijacked his services from Harding who had been the one to inform Whittland where the transport location was.

Klary continued, “The ground leader recently made contact and informed me he made a startling discovery this morning.”

“Oh?”

“Elinor Savona has apparently surrendered herself into Imperial custody.”

Whittland felt his jaw tighten.

Klary continued.

“I would like you to go, verify the person in custody _is_ Dr. Savona and I would like you to escort her up to the Chimaera.”

Without thinking, Whittland interjected, “You’re not just going to kill her?”

The Commander laughed, it wasn’t an entirely nice sound either, “Oh Mr. Whittland, I do like your attitude. I tell you what, when it _is_ time to get rid of her, I’ll let _you_ have the honor since you didn’t get a chance to confirm the Pyrondi kill.”

 

The stormtrooper Captain had placed her in a darkened compartment, leaving a guard standing outside the hatch – though she couldn’t guess why. Ellie _did_ just surrender, and her lightsaber had been confiscated. Were they afraid she would escape? There was no point in stewing over the “why” part of it all; she would go back to basics.

She would meditate.

It was in that hazy state of semi-awareness that she saw flashes of previous dreams being tied together.

_The woman with the braid on the bridge of the Chimaera…._

_…Thrawn in his Mandalorian armor; a lightsaber piercing his chest plate…_

_…The little girl with bright red eyes and unruly dark hair, running to her…_

_…The shadow…getting closer…_

The sound of the hatch opening near her caused her to come out of her dream like state; but it was a gentle waking.

“Well, well, well. _Doctor_ Savona.” The voice of Agent Douglas Whittland was one she would have been content with never hearing again, but unfortunately, he stood over her ominously sneering, “Welcome back.”

She snorted. Drew was right, the man really did look like Mr. Potato Head.

“Hello again Agent Whittland.”

The FBI agent glared down at her, “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing, Agent. I’m just reminded of someone telling me once, that you look like an anthropomorphized starchy tuber.”

The man’s eyes flashed in anger and he shifted his weight as if to move toward her; she cocked her head in challenge, raising her eye brows slightly – a very Thrawn-kind of expression.

_Careful, you no longer have your lightsaber, Elinor!_

Instead of responding to her, he pulled a commlink out of his pocket and keyed it on; an evil smile creeping onto his features, “Hello Commander, I’ll be coming up to your ship with a special delivery.”

 

Rick Haines along with Dizon and Cran watched from deep within the woods as the FBI agent who had taken Elinor away months prior entered the ship. No more than five minutes later the transport unfolded itself and took off. Ten minutes after that, another one just like it came down to take its place.

The older man, Cran, seemed pleased, “The Admiral called it. Looks like Agent Whittland is taking something up to the Chimaera.”

Dizon, still recovering from being the guinea pig, bobbed his head thoughtfully, “Maybe weapons? It didn’t look like the transport was full.”

“I don’t know.” Cran mumbled absently still looking through their supped-up binoculars.

“So ya guys going to let me have a gun?” Rick asked

“No.” both commented in parallel.

“C’mon, after all I did for you,” he nudged Dizon with his elbow, “by the way, your secret is safe with me,” he mumbled conspiratorially.

Dizon wrinkled his nose, “What in the Nine Hells are you talking about?”

Cran had put his macros down and was looking at the other two now.

“You know,” Rick motioned his head from side-to-side and rolled his eyes.

Cran’s lip twitched slightly, “What’s he talking about?”

“What _are_ you talking about?”

“Hey, I don’t judge!” Rick shrugged in faux-exasperation.

Dizon pulled out his blaster in one smooth motion and jabbed off the safety, “What are you talking about!?”

“You didn’t last twenty minutes…” Rick smirked mischievously.

Cran had to hold his nose to stifle his laughter.

“What?” Dizon growled.

“I clocked you at nineteen minutes and forty-eight seconds before the Super-Lax worked.”

Dizon jabbed the blaster up under Rick’s chin, whispering fiercely, “That was a _false alarm_!”

At this point Thae Cran looked as though he would pass out, slapping the side of his own thigh while breathing through his teeth. His face was red with the effort of having to contain quite possibly the most amusement the man had experienced in his entire life.

Elinor Savona’s friend raised his hands in submission, “Hey false alarms are _just_ as distracting as the real ones!”

Dizon shot a disgusted look at Cran, “What? You’re upset because you can’t torment Pyrondi, so you’ve moved up to me?”

“No, I’ve moved _down_ to you,” the Major’s redden face split into a grin.

Dizon shook his head moodily, “You do know that stuff was disgusting.”

Rick smiled contentedly and nodded.

“I only did it because the Admiral needed to confirm it would work.”

“Just shut up and eat some Jerky, Arton.”

 

He was thankfully sitting behind her so she couldn’t see how sick he was. He even went so far as to take his tie off to make himself more comfortable. The first and only time he flew up to the ship, Klary had him kidnapped, so he thankfully slept most of the way.

This time Whittland’s stomach was not enjoying the trek through the Earth’s atmosphere. It was at the apex of his nausea that the damn commlink pinged again.

“Yes,” he wheezed, learning from his previous mistake of answering too gruffly.

“Ah yes, Mr. Whittland?” a man’s voice asked

“Yes.”

The man hummed, “Do you know someone named Matt Caglioni?”

Whittland swallowed hard as whoever was flying flew through something – a cloud, a flock of geese, the side of a mountain (?) – causing the FBI agent’s stomach to rebel.

“Yes.”

“Oh, that’s excellent! Thank you for the pizza, sir!” the man seemed ecstatic.

“Sure – “

_Pizza?_

The thought of food made Doug Whittland’s eyes widen in panicked alarm as his stomach finally gave up just seconds prior to the transport leveling off; finally entering the calm of space.

 

George Harding pondered the implications of being summoned to Klary’s office so early. He hadn’t even been given an opportunity to check on the child before her mysterious call. A part of him wanted to go to sick bay first to look in on Athena; to ensure she was being cared for properly, but his gift was surprisingly insistent.

_Go._

And so, he went.

“I have a surprise for you,” the Commander smiled at him, amusement dripping from her voice.

The corners of Harding’s mouth twisted slightly upward, “Oh?”

“Something special from the surface; unfortunately, I don’t have time to wrap it in something pretty, but I get the impression you’ll like it no matter what.”

His gift started to ripple in frustration, lashing out and looking around for something, anything. Finding nothing he gritted his teeth, tired of the game she was obviously playing, “What is it, Commander?”

She grinned in triumph, “Elinor Savona is on her way to the Chimaera.”

 

Rick Haines had never seen so much pizza in his life. It was a single man’s dream, or it would have been had the doctor not helped him mix up a tub of industrial strength Super-Lax to discreetly pour over the cheese. Tabitha, was still concerned so they mixed up more of the stuff, putting it into ten different two-liter bottles of soda.

He drove up to the launch site where the new ship now rested. From afar one would never assume the ship was anything other than a building or even a plane, the Imperials had created a zig-zag access road that ascended a hill where the main site lay. As he approached the main access point, he heard the sudden hollow sound of an open comm line in his ear.

“Are you ready, Mr. Haines?” the smooth suave voice asked.

“Yep.”

“Excellent. Begin…now.”

Rick blared the horn on his Honda Civic, “Hey! Someone up there order pizza?”

Naturally every white helmeted head in the area turned, every blaster rifle came up and Rick chuckled because he could imagine that once the word pizza sank into their brains nothing else would matter. He rolled down all the windows and kept his hands high on the steering wheel.

“HALT!”

Rick obeyed, pressing the emergency break on with his left foot. One of the officers, his weapon drawn walked briskly up to the car, opening the door and pulling the driver out roughly.

“Who are you? How did you know the location of this site?”

“Name’s Matt Caglioni. Whittland ordered pizza.”

“ _Whittland_?” the officer looked at him and then through the trees toward the ship.

“Uh yeah, your buddy that just came?”

The officer shot Rick an annoyed glance while keying his commlink; “Major Hannet, contact the civilian contractor the Commander has been using – the _native_. Ask him if he knows someone by the name of –“ the man looked over in question at Rick again.

“Caglioni. Matt Caglioni.” Rick smiled politely

“-Matt Caglioni.”

There was apparently an affirmative on the other end because the officer settled into a glower directed at Rick who was leaning up against the car in front of him, with his hands up.

Less than a minute later, the comm pinged and he tapped at it, “Yes?”

“Sir? Was there a reason for the inquiry, sir?”

“No, nothing important Major – just pizza.”

There was a hint of excitement in the other man’s voice, “I’ll ask, sir.”

Another minute later and this time with definite excitement in his voice, the Major called back, “The contractor confirmed he does have an acquaintance by that name, sir. I took the liberty of thanking him for lunch!”

The officer nodded more to himself than anything, “Good.” He had circled around the vehicle inspecting it carefully as Hannet spoke; taking a look through the back window he grinned.

The officer strode to the front of the car smirking at Rick, “Major bring a repulsor sled down to the access point, the Commander’s contractor was kind enough to bring enough for _everyone_!”

The other man on the comm line seemed much more chipper at the prospect of food after manual labor because his voice rose noticeable, “Yes, sir!”

The officer keyed the little device off and chuckled, “Mr. Caglioni, you must have the best job on the planet.”

“You have no idea.”

 

The wave of emotion that swept through her upon seeing the Chimaera again caused her to shift in her seat. The bulky hand-cuffs they used to bind her hands made it awkward to adjust and Whittland moved slightly closer to her; his hand lazily rubbing up against his sidearm – a blatant reminder to her that he was in control.

At least for now.

When she arrived onboard the massive ship she would likely be fought over. Greta Klary would try to extract any and all information out of her while George Harding would try to mentally cow her into being his pawn.

Elinor needed to walk a very fine line. She would try to pit Klary against Harding as much as she could, try to string Harding along with her newly formed anonymity; all the while working to locate her daughter. With any luck, Thrawn would give her enough time to crack the delicate shell that was the relationship between the Commander and the former TES engineer, before he made his entrance.

There was a jerk, sending all aboard the troop transport swaying slightly - an indicator that the tractor beam had caught the smaller vessel and was reeling it into the Star Destroyer’s hanger bay. Elinor gazed out and finally saw it – just as she remembered it only without the lines of Imperial stormtroopers and officers, engineers, techs and crewers and of course the white uniformed Grand Admiral that she had fallen in love with.

She steeled herself; cementing the mental shield she had created to sequester her emotional reactions, her intentions and even her very existence. There was the hiss of pneumatics and smell of hydraulic fluid and then – Elinor Savona stood up exiting the transport that brought her back to the ISD Chimaera.

 

Harding had to smile as he saw her walk toward them. She was stoically confident – not arrogant in any way – Elinor was never haughty even when she knew she was right. He found himself admiring her figure; something he’d done since they had been at TES, back when she had been ignorant of her true potential. She was quite attractive which made her all the more desirable to him.

_The full package._

“She is beauty. She is grace.” He chuckled to himself.

The woman next to him shifted. Klary eyed him surreptitiously as he continued to study Elinor. He briefly reached out to her, providing a gentle mental caress but what he found caused him to inhale sharply.

She wasn’t there.

He felt his brow furrow in concentration, his gift thrashing in its hungry search for her distinctive presence – knowing those familiar ripples had to be there! She was after all, almost to him – he would soon be able to reach out and physically touch her.

The Commander saw his frustration, “Trouble, Mr. Harding?”

“No.” He said slowly, “Just an interesting development in the mystery that is Elinor Savona.”

Klary looked over at him, a hint of warning in her eye, “You will inform me if that changes.”

“Of course, Commander.” He soothed.

He would have spent more time belaying the other’s fears but Agent Whittland had arrived with the prize. Harding certainly wasn’t going to allow the FBI agent nor Elinor to see anything other than a united front between himself and Klary.

“Commander. Mr. Harding.” Whittland nodded to his two keepers standing side-by-side.

Klary smiled, “Mr. Whittland, it is good to see you again.”

“Thank you, ma’am. As you can see, I come baring gifts” he pushed Elinor roughly toward Klary.

“I see.” Klary laughed as she stepped toward the other woman and Harding found himself unconsciously holding his breath, uncertain how the Commander would handle the situation.

Instead of drawing her blaster, which seemed to be her modus operandi, Klary simply stared at Elinor who stared back.

“He chose well, with you.”

“ _You_ didn’t choose well, though. Did you Commander?” Elinor’s eyes flicked to Harding.

Klary threw back her head and laughed, “Ah, Dr. Savona there is simply _no_ comparison.”

Harding felt a brief flash of anger as the two women continued their battle of wills, seemingly at his expense.

“I wasn’t making one, Commander.”

The Imperial smiled at her for a long moment, “Shall we continue this conversation in my office?”

 

Cran had told him everyone has hidden talents. The Major had admired Pyrondi’s ability to sweet talk anyone into anything. Dizon had been impressed by his commanding officer’s ability to get rid of snakes. Now, it would seem, his hidden talent manifested itself in the worst possible way.

His nineteen minutes and forty-eight seconds was, according to Rick Haines, a prime example of Herculean restraint compared to the “performance” of the Imperial forces guarding the transport. Fifteen minutes after Haines departed, having delivered his pizza and soft drinks, the first stormtrooper rushed to the transport from his patrol duty.

“Wonder what his hurry is?” Tobevoh smiled impishly at Dizon.

The comm line opened and Rick’s voice could be heard, “Mission accomplished, Mr. Grand Admiral!”

Thrawn, having donned his armor keyed the comm on his wrist, “We are already seeing the results, Mr. Haines. Good work.”

“Whoa! Really? So soon? Maybe Tabby Cat and I mixed a bit too much?”

All eyes turned to the Chimaera’s Chief Medical Officer.

Cran sneered at Yermentic and mouthed “Tabby Cat?” bobbing his head appreciatively. The older woman, had the good sense to stay quiet but her face was beginning to turn red. After all the shit she put everyone through, now they had a consolation prize.

Haines continued, “Maybe it’s just because Super Sphincter Artie is just too much of an over achiever. That’s really impress - ”

Yermentic grinned and nodded to Dizon, as Yates covered her mouth to suppress her giggles and Wilton coughed carefully into his upraised arm.

“Thank you, Mr. Haines.” Thrawn called over the man’s incessant chatter, cutting the comm, “Major, you, Lieutenant Commander Tobevoh and Lieutenant Ovally will approach from the north. Captain, you, Lieutenant Commander Yates and Lieutenant Toldera will approach from the south. Lieutenant Commander Wilton, you and Doctor Yermentic will escort Lieutenant Commander Pyrondi and Andrew Savona to the eastern ridge and provide them cover as they set up the broadcast array.”

The Grand Admiral keyed the comm again, “Jedi Bridger, is the shuttle ready?”

The response sounded sullen, “Yeah.”

“Very well,” the Grand Admiral adjusted his blaster rifle, “Mark – Now.”

 

Major Hannet was one of the last to get a slice of pizza, and as such had seen its devastating effects (i.e. the long awkward line to the ‘fresher came to mind). He decided to abstain from eating, instead choosing to have some of the fizzy drinks. Hannet didn’t fare much better than his cohorts trying to digest six slices of pizza.

Lieutenant Commander Silvie, was the first to fall victim as he dealt directly with the delivery and had “felt compelled” to sample the goods before they were provided to the other fifty people on site. Hannet and Silvie were part of a small hand-full that would physically be able to do surveillance walk downs of the area since _almost all_ five squads of stormtroopers had apparently become so incapacitated by gastro-intestinal malaise - half walked around without their utility belts and the other half without their helmets claiming their rebreathers were no longer working.

Regardless of their stupidity in eating terrible Earth food, the business of the day needed to proceed. Shipments of nonperishables were to be packed into the transport and shipped back up to the Chimaera by 1400 hours and foodstuffs were due by 2300 hours.

Hannet found the Lieutenant Commander looking pale with a thin layer of sweat on his brow, “Major, are you able to resume your duties?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Please resume your surveillance rounds.”

“Yes, sir.”

Hannet wasn’t exactly thrilled over the prospect of being out in the middle of the woods when his dietary foibles came back to haunt him. Nevertheless, they took the six stormtroopers that seemed fit enough for the trek and began patrolling the north side of the transport. The Lambda, which sat on the make-shift landing pad next to the transport, had been dormant for two days after Commander Klary returned to the Chimaera.

Hannet began his surveillance to the north of the transport looping around the shuttle to the south with the intention of coming up along the shuttle’s side of the pad on the eastern side but a brief flicker of reflected metal caught his attention.

The Major opened his comm line to request the squad lead investigate but was met with the tell-tale squeal of signal feedback. His comm was being jammed.

Before he could turn and run back to the transport or scream out a warning, he was struck by a stun blast that sent him flying into the nearest tree. Chaos ensued, with squads of stormtroopers in various stages of reassembling their armor after having to deal with personal matters came charging out of the transport, from the Lambda or in the most embarrassing cases the nearby bushes.

Nearly three squads of Imperial stormtroopers stood clustered neatly – perfect for Dizon, Yates and Toldera to attack from the south; in excellent position for Cran, Tobevoh and Ovally to sneak in behind from the north; at a great angle for even the worst marksman if situated on the east ridge where Wilton, Yermentic, Pyrondi and Drew were located.

When the shooting started, they naturally retreated to the west only to be met by the overhead fire of a Lambda shuttle and another assault from the ground – this one from a tall figure in Mandalorian armor. There were several attempts to call for reinforcements from the Chimaera, as it became apparent very quickly this was a full-scale attack, but Lieutenant Commander Silvie had determined as had Major Hannet that the incursion force had found some way to jam their communications.

 

Grand Admiral Thrawn winced slightly as a blaster bolt tore through the tree he had been crouched near just seconds prior. Bridger had brought the Lambda down next to the other shuttle but on the northern side instead of the southern as instructed.

Perhaps this was the way the Jedi was choosing to express his displeasure with Thrawn?

As the disguised Chiss circled around the transport, ducking behind the ramp, duel blasters blazing at the troopers pursuing him, he noted why the boy chose not to land there. Dizon, Yates and Toldera were holed up behind a crop of trees very near to the pad but there was a large group of stormtroopers advancing.

Bending for cover again, the Grand Admiral lined up on the trooper at the end of the line. The man fell forward prompting a sudden jerk from the white armored soldier standing next to him. Dizon notice the distraction and capitalized on it.

By that time Major Cran and his team had threaded between the two shuttles and the transport, covertly pinning the jamming device Elinor had reverse engineered to the hall of the other Lambda.

That was the signal to Wilton and his team.

“Lieutenant Commander Pyrondi?” Wilton asked formally, “Are you able to perform your duties as an Imperial Navy officer?”

“I am.” She grinned.

Wilton smirked back at her, “Then give ‘em hell, girl.”

Crissa Pyrondi looked down at Drew, smiling that same roguish smile he did when he insisted on coming with her. It would bring them both some form of closure because they both agreed…

_Payback’s a bitch._

She pulled back the lever and slammed her palm down on the button; Wilton adjusted the tuning knob….

He smiled grimly, “The Chimaera’s new quality entertainment will be enlightening.”

“Are we sure the jamming from the Lambda isn’t interfering?” Yermentic looked down at the setup worriedly and then at Klary’s Lambda.

Pyrondi shook her head, “Elinor said it might be a little wobbly, but I think the Captain’s message will get through loud and clear.”

_Yes, payback was indeed going to be a bitch._

And who better to give it?

 

Dalen Tela sat with a few of the other engineers in the mess hall. There were a few techs he recognized seated at nearby tables but other than that it was a sea of business-as-usual as the shift changed. The slop line was of course, busy and it was during these busy times that someone – _probably_ from engineering and/or communications – got the vacuum-brained idea to project some of the planetary entertainment options from the orbital satellites for the whole hall to groan over.

The thought was, if you didn’t like it you could 1.) stay and find any number of people to commiserate with that would share your views or 2.) leave and take your pot roast with you. In either case it would provide whomever remained in the dining room entertainment, which was sorely needed aboard the ship at this point.

Tela like so many others had learned to tune it out, especially jems like The Bachelor and a documentary about keeping up with several idiots, all with the same last name.

“So, what do you think Dalen?” Tunia Illium asked as she scrapped the last of her bowl, “Will we ever see Imperial space again?”

“At this point, Tuni I just want to live.” Dalen knew he sounded defeated, and it was no secret that the Head Engineer was more than a little demoralized lately.

Ptan Vint the walking stereotype of a Wild Space yokel, belched loudly and smiled sheepishly after Tuni threw him a disgusted look, “Sorry.” He mumbled, “So, what’s got ya down, boss?”

Both Tuni and Ptan were on the Savona team – named after Elinor – a group of trouble-shooters that dealt with emergent technical issues every hour of the day and night. He had spent a lot of time with the two of them and had grown to trust them both. If he couldn’t tell them, who could he tell?

“I think,” he paused and sighed, “I think something bad happened to the Grand Admiral, but I don’t know for _sure_.”

“Well, yeah – he’s _not_ here!” Tuni said sarcastically.

“No Tunia, I mean something happened to him _personally_.”

“You mean like he died?” Ptan scratched at his stubble.

Tela tightened his jaw, “Or was murdered.”

The two seemed to consider this, seriously to Dalen’s surprise and as they were, there was a flicker in the projection behind them. The entertainment feed from the satellite must have been weak today. Perhaps it would go down…

_Good riddance._

“What data do you have to support your supposition?” Tuni asked solemnly.

Tela internally shook his head and smirked.

_Like a true engineer._

“Thrawn doesn’t strike me as someone who would just go off. Remember the tractor beam fiasco?”

Ptan rolled his eyes and Tuni groaned in acknowledgement. Fixing the damn thing had been the scourge of their lives for months.

“Well, I looked at the configuration logs to troubleshoot the issue – turns out there was a control ventilation issue at the same time.” Tela whispered.

“Control ventilation?” Ptan’s forehead wrinkled in confusion, “Where?”

“On the bridge.”

“ _Kriff me!_ ”

“Was the Grand Admiral on the bridge at the time?” Tuni was starting to look a little unnerved.

“I don’t know.”

“I –“

There was a sudden yelp from behind them and a clatter of silverware. Dalen looked up to see the entertainment feed flicker again, but something was _very_ different. The mess hall had gone incredible still and quiet.

“-could say it’s good to see you again.” The voice of Captain Gilad Pellaeon reverberated through the room.

“Gilad Pellaeon, it _is_ nice to see you.”

Klary’s projected image made Tela’s insides turn cold. Her smile was cruel and vitriolic.

“That’s Captain Pellaeon, to you”

There was some background noise…someone screaming. The Captain stared up at the woman standing over him, his face proud and determined.

“Not anymore.” The Commander hissed.

The RK-3 service weapon she had been pointing at his chest – almost unnoticed due to the shock of seeing their long-lost Captain – fired a blast of super-heated plasma into the man’s chest and he fell back.

The dining hall erupted into screams, gasps, the clang of silverware, the scuff of shoes as people stood in horrified surprise and rage. The recording began again.

_“Greta, I wish I could say it’s good to see you again.”_

_“Gilad Pellaeon, it is nice to see you.”_

_“That’s Captain Pellaeon, to you.”_

_“Not anymore.”_

It cycled again and played like background music to absolute pandemonium.

Tunia and Ptan were screaming; searching desperately for the Head Engineer – their councilor, their friend - but he was already marching purposefully to sick bay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi,
> 
> So the jamming device is on Klary's Lambda...
> 
> After re-reading and editing the last few chapters I keep on thinking the way I wrote this was...just poorly resolved. I'm worried about plot holes, nonsensical ramblings and it being in general anti-climatic.... 
> 
> I've tried to talk my way into and out of everything...sometimes I change my mind and realize "ugh that would mean I'll have to rewrite a bunch of things"...so it's just easier if I 1) add little bits here and there or 2) explain my logic here in this lovely little note section or my personal favorite 3) complain about it to unsuspecting victims such as yourself!! :-D
> 
> You are very kind to put up with me. 
> 
> P.S. About 10 months I bought tickets to that Star Wars Celebration in Chicago - fully convinced 2019 was going to be my year to let my hair down and wiggle my arse. I've never been and have always wanted to go. I of course got laid off at the end of 2018 and have been debating on whether or not to go...I recently decided: "$uck it. I'm going!!!"   
> Live life, right?  
> Eat Ramen noodles though...it's like grad school all over (I know it will be worth it!) :-D


	61. Breaking In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning:  
> A Little Violence
> 
> In This Chapter:  
> The true target: NOT a shuttle  
> Elinor's interrogation begins  
> In pursuit of the Lambda: Fly casual? No not really  
> Drew with a message  
> Klary's got Thrawn figured out  
> The death of Grand Admiral Thrawn  
> It's a riot.  
> Bittersweet memories; reaching out to her daughter  
> Athena wants Ezra to deliver something to her mother...  
> Cran hates paper, Ezra has a bomb and Dizon wants everyone to look mean!  
> Q: What's for lunch? A: Mutiny  
> In memory of Ensign Yenita Brev; Klary's new level of evil  
> Perhaps it's a good thing?  
> Disobedience: Tela plans a mutiny  
> Harding breaks the news to Klary  
> Klary takes Athena

 

Ezra Bridger exited the Lambda, blocking blaster fire with his lightsaber as he advanced toward Thae Cran who had huddled up against the troop transport with Tobevoh and Ovally – a sign they had completed their mission of attaching the little jamming cylinder to the hull of the other shuttle. The three were on the opposite side of the loading ramp from Thrawn dressed in his distinctive armor; although the Grand Admiral was holding his own at the moment, one shot past him could open up Cran’s team to an attack from behind.

The young Jedi sprinted toward the transport, blocking the sudden increased number of blasts coming his way – he had apparently garnered attention with his glowing purple blade as he leapt over the loading ramp and slid to a stop in a defensive position over the Chiss who had been using a rapid-fire pattern to hold off the attacking force.

With Ezra’s lightsaber deflecting incoming fire, either directly back at the stormtroopers or up into the canopy above them and Thrawn picking off the remaining attackers, the west side of the landing pad was clear. This left the remaining force nowhere to go but to the Lambda shuttles.

Wilton, Yermentic and Pyrondi were ready – covering the shuttles while Thrawn and Ezra slide back behind the transport to push the two squads away from _their_ Lambda and toward their own. Dizon and his team moved forward further encouraging them.

In the end, Lieutenant Commander Silvie led the remains of his force to the Lambda Klary had left on the pad and began the pre-flight sequence. They would have better luck flushing out the attackers from the air.

The point was moot, however as the assailants swarmed the troop transport.

…Like they had been after it all along…

Silvie swore viscously.

_What the hell would they need with a transport? They didn’t have the numbers to support its use!_

The shuttle had some teeth but she was no match for the troop transport – the only hope he had was to outrun the larger more sluggish vessel; getting far enough away to call for help from the Star Destroyer hovering behind the moon.

Most if not all of the ground insurgents had boarded the transport, the last obvious one rushing up the boarding ramp as the ship lifted off in pursuit of his Lambda which was already racing to the safety of space.

It would now be a race to the Chimaera.

 

Elinor stepped into the office. All the art was gone.

The vase from Alderaan - gone.

The tapestries - gone.

The sculptures - gone.

The paintings - gone.

Klary had done a thorough job of hiding reminders of the Chimaera’s true commander. The fundamental layout of the room remained – the desk and chairs were as they had been; the shelves that had once displayed beauty were still in place but bare, making the room look ominous. The entryway leading to Thrawn’s dojo was open and as Elinor entered further into the room, she noticed two large robot-like statues – or she _thought_ they were statues until she saw their blasters.

The Commander led her to the desk and motioned for her to sit.

Whittland handed Klary her lightsaber, “Your guys down on the planet told me to give you this.”

She took it, her lips curling in a knowing smile. Harding looked at the new weapon with interest.

“I don’t have a use for this but –“ she turned to Harding catching his eye, “- I suppose you’ll want it. I understand you’re starting a collection.” She laughed.

He smirked at her, “Indeed I am, Commander.”

He gingerly took the lightsaber from her hand and inspected it; looking over at Elinor who was fastidiously ignoring his scrutiny. Both the weapon and its creator were remarkable – Harding was certain he would enjoy using both.

Klary leaned over her desk, interrupting some of his more obscene thoughts, “Elinor, I think you and I both know, you’re going to tell me where the Grand Admiral put the key code that unlocks this ship.”

The other woman remained silent and unmoving.

“I only have your best interest at heart,” Klary said gently.

Elinor smiled, “I was under the impression you didn’t have a heart.”

The Commander laughed, “Usually no, but your daughter is really quite adorable despite her coloring.”

“I really don’t know where he put it.”

“Krayt spit!”

“He never told me,” she looked up at Harding mournfully. “I was afraid it could have been extracted from my mind.”

Klary followed her gaze; spitefully glaring at Harding, as he once again reached out searching for Elinor’s mental signature. She was _nothing_ and _nowhere_ – completely hidden from him; infuriating him with her elusiveness and unwillingness to show herself to him.

_She was supposed to be his!_

His gift had told him that much.

He backhanded her and she fell out of the chair. Whittland twitched slightly in surprise and Klary raised in eyebrows in mock concern, “Would you like to borrow my droids?”

“That won’t be necessary, Commander” he grated out, “Elinor will be telling us everyth-“

Klary’s desk comm pinged.

She jabbed at it and snarled, “What?”

“Uh, Commander,” the voice on the line sounded almost panicked, “The Lambda shuttle and the troop transport from the surface are _both_ coming up but they’re on comm silence, ma’am. The troop transport is _firing_ on the Lambda! What are your orders, ma’am?”

A smile began to pull at Klary’s lips, “Can you tell where the jamming is coming from?”

The young officer cleared his throat nervously, “They’re pretty close together, but it looks like it’s coming from the Lambda, ma’am.”

Klary grinned.

She had that red eyed bastard now.

“Excellent, how far out are they?”

“They’ll be in tractor beam range in two minutes and fifteen seconds, ma’am.”

“I’m on my way to the bridge.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The Commander beamed as she keyed the comm off. She strode around the desk and motioned for Whittland to follow her, “Mr. Harding, a word of advice – your foreplay needs work.”

The FBI agent chuckled slightly as he fell in behind her.

“I’m on my way to the bridge. I have to say good-bye to the Grand Admiral.”

 

The cockpit was a flurry of activity as Thrawn marched in. Major Cran was barking at Lieutenant Ovally and Captain Dizon as both flew through the confined space trying to right the approach vector, and man the weapon’s systems. The Grand Admiral casually slid into the co-pilot’s seat to alleviate some of necessary multi-tasking.

The transport was slowly catching up to the shuttle. The larger ship’s laser cannons were spewing green fire at the fleeing Lambda in an effort to hit home.

“Pull back slightly, Major.” Thrawn ordered calmly, “We do not want to inadvertently destroy the Lambda before the Commander has had her victory.”

“Yes, sir.” Cran growled

The trick was to still stay close enough to the shuttle to give the appearance they were under the jamming field umbrella projected by the Lambda and hence unable to signal the Chimaera – all the while _also_ giving the appearance of trying to blow the shuttle out of existence before it reached the Star Destroyer.

Abruptly, there was a blinding flash from the Chimaera’s main turbolaser batteries. It lit up the cockpit, causing Cran to curse and Dizon and Ovally to flinch away as the transport barrel rolled away from the explosion. A heart-stopping moment later the familiar sound of Commander Greta Klary’s voice crackled over the comm.

“Welcome back, Grand Admiral.”

 

Andrew Savona watched as the third ship, the second Lambda shuttle left carrying the woman he loved. He told her that too, this time. Before she ran up the ramp, he called after her. She had turned, tossing her light blonde hair and pinning him with those dark blue eyes.

He _almost_ lost his nerve...

“Crissa. Ya gotta come back after yer done up there.”

“I will!”

“Ya gotta ‘cause I love you.”

She stopped and looked at him then, the doctor had tugged at her arm imploring her to hurry.

“I love you too.”

He smirked, “Welp, alright then.”

The shuttle ramp had moved, hiding her from his view as the craft rose, spun in midair and sped after the other two ships that had rocketed away just moments prior. He flexed his new knees and hobbled back to the broadcast array to make sure it was still projecting the message up to the satellites in orbit around the planet.

Hopefully the message he helped to send up would also help him see his sister, his niece and Crissa Pyrondi again.

 

She arrived on the bridge; her boots clanking on the gangway in her haste to get to the weapons and navigation stations. Whittland had struggled to keep up with her. The young Lieutenant – Dowry was his name - that had called was sweating profusely still trying to raise either ship while a nearby Ensign was awaiting orders to engage the tractor beam.

Klary didn’t bother asking for the status of the situation, she could see it unfolding before her. The Lambda was speeding toward the Chimaera with the troop transport gaining on her; several shots from the transport barely missing the upper stabilizing dorsal wing of the shuttle.

“Focus view of the Lambda,” Klary ordered the sweaty Lieutenant.

He had given up with his attempt at communication with the incoming ships upon seeing Klary and immediately focused in on the Imperial shuttle. The Commander leaned in to get a better look.

She smiled.

Thrawn was trying to confuse her.

The shuttle was hers and not the one he had been retrofitting in the forest. With five squads of stormtroopers – over _fifty_ Imperials on the ground - there was no way the Grand Admiral and his sad little troupe could have done significant damage to the launch site on the planet even with the Jedi.

He likely used his retrofitted shuttle as a decoy to steal hers – probably knowing Klary was aware of his own modifications and intensions. The transport’s angry pursuit indicated that the Chiss wasn’t nearly as clever as he thought, and he had gotten caught.

There was a chance that Thrawn had split his forces up between the two Lambda’s and the second, modified shuttle would be on its way – a tactical faint, hinging on Klary believing action had resolved with the first Lambda and the transport.

Thrawn was the type to be out in front. He’d be in the first shuttle.

Her eyes flicked to the broad beam sensors, “Where’s the second Lambda?”

“Just leaving the surface now, ma’am.” The female Ensign responded.

“Under comm silence?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Klary grinned.

_I have him._

“Lieutenant Dowry, we still have enough tibanna stored in our forward turbolaser tank, correct?”

Dowry looked like a Bantha a second away from being driven over by the massive treads of a sand crawler – even making a strangled sort of whine.

“Uh, the tank was patched and disposition for one more iteration of the firing mechanism, yes ma’am – but if we use it, our tibanna reserve would be depleted. I don’t think –“

“I’m not interested in your opinion, Lieutenant,” Klary hissed. “Target incoming Lambda with forward turbolaser batteries. Single beam – maximum damage.”

The Lieutenant and Ensign looked at each other, clearly confused. Whittland shifted next to her, feeling the situation’s almost tangible discomfort.

“Ma’am that’s an Imperial shuttle. There are Imperial troo-“

Klary’s RK-3 was out and in her hand, aimed at the Lieutenant, “Are you disobeying my orders Lieutenant?”

The man swallowed visibly; he started sweating again and the Ensign next to him blanched. Before, the Lieutenant had seemed flushed and overheated, suddenly Dowry appeared pale and sick seeing the Commander’s blaster trained on him.

“No, ma’am.” He said quietly, his throat making an odd clicking noise.

“Good.” She growled, “Now, let me repeat, target incoming Lambda with forward turbolaser batteries.”

The Lieutenant sat at the weapon’s station and adjusted the settings manually. The shuttle was seconds away from being within tractor beam range.

“Ready ma’am.”

Klary smiled a slow satisfied smile.

“Fire.”

The Lambda exploded, turning instantly in to atoms as the tiny ship’s shield was overloaded by a massive amount of energy originating from the Chimaera’s turbolasers. The troop transport swerved to avoid the halo of debris; likely the action caught the stormtrooper piloting the vessel off-guard.

Whittland, awestruck, swore under his breath.

“Open a comm line.” Klary sighed.

It was over – she had ridded the universe of Thrawn. The Commander cynically hoped he wasn’t looking forward to a trial or some other platform to preach from.

She chuckled. “Welcome back, Grand Admiral.” Klary murmured under her breath, “and good riddance.”

There seemed to be a sigh of relief from the comm, “Nice shooting Chimaera! How did you know they were imposters?”

There was an audible gasp from the Ensign, Lieutenant Dowry sat up a little straighter in his seat and looked furtively at Klary, “This is Commander Klary, we had gotten some intelligence reports suggesting an attack may be coming. What’s your status, Transport?”

“We are ahead of schedule Commander, despite the excitement. We’re ready to unload at the Chimaera’s convenience, ma’am.”

“And the other Lambda?”

The trooper on the other end sounded sheepish, “The insurgents damaged its comm system, ma’am. The Lambda has friendlies aboard.”

_Thrawn is a tricky bastard._

_Well, he was._

The Commander sighed contentedly.

“Very well, we’ll tractor you both in, Chimaera out.” Klary sounded bored.

She nodded to the petrified Ensign and Lieutenant Dowry, “Tractor them in, tractor the Lambda in and inform the shuttle crew I wish to get a debrief from them immediately.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

With that, Klary turned to Whittland, smirked and motioned for him to follow her. She swept victoriously off the bridge. The bridge of _her_ Star Destroyer. The ISD Chimaera was really, truly _hers_.

Grand Admiral Thrawn was dead.

 

Elinor sat up and glared at Harding disdainfully.

“Don’t _ever_ hit me again.”

He felt his mental state shift unconsciously, bringing barriers to the fore and readying himself for her to attack but she didn’t, and he allowed himself a slight smile. She wouldn’t lash out unless she was in imminent danger or severely provoked, but it was time to press her and find out how close he could get to that line before she took the bait.

Harding moved closer to her, without thinking she backed up, into the side of the desk.

“How would you stop me, Elinor? Hmm?” he gently moved a strand of hair away from her face and she flinched away, “I can show you how to _make_ me stop.”

He felt the ripples around himself start to churn, but there was nothing from her – she was empty – making him want to touch her to confirm she was, in fact real. He leaned in closer as she turned her head away given him a warning look.

The line was near…

It was not crossed as the tension was interrupted by the chirp of Klary’s desk comm. Harding laughed lowly at Elinor’s palpable relief over the disruption and he reached casually over to key it on.

“Yes?”

There was a confused pause, “Where’s Commander Klary? Who is _this_?”

“This is her advisor, George Harding, Commander Klary went to the bridge and should be returning momentarily. Is there something I can assist you with?”

There was some muttering in the background followed by a louder clatter of something falling, “There seems to be a disturbance in the mess hall, sir.”

Harding cocked his head, his brow furrowing in thought, “What type of _disturbance_?”

“It’s almost like a…riot, sir.” The filtered voice spoke the last words so softly it was almost a whisper, as if to utter the word would spread the very concept and provoke random flareups of disgruntled Imperials wanting better meal plans.

“I will go investigate myself and report my findings to the Commander.” And before the man could respond Harding terminated the call; turning to Elinor with an almost kind smile.

“Unfortunately, my dear, we don’t have time to finish our conversation now. Soon.”

Elinor looked at him blandly, “You were doing all the talking, and I wasn’t listening to any of it.”

He laughed and grabbed her by the arm, pulling her toward the door to the personal quarters attached to the office. A brief surge of panic filled her, but she tampered it down; he deposited her roughly into the living space – now almost empty – and locked her inside.

 

After checking the door – they had locked the access panel, so the controls were unreachable from the inside of the room without a biometric code. She had tried her own thumbprint on the off-chance someone wasn’t quite so vigilant; not clearing the system.

_If Engineering did it, then they did it right, Elinor!_

Ironically this made her equal parts proud and sad. Her former crews in Engineering on Deck 17 had been good when she arrived – when she left, they were great. The improvements they had made to the “standard Imperial process” were panning out and the results showed in the quality of the work performed as well as the efficiency.

And now here she was trapped behind a product of her own eagerness to reach perfection.

_Ironic._

She turned around slowly, looking around what had once been a Grand Admiral’s living space. Elinor had worried that the Commander destroyed everything from the office – sculptures, vases, paintings and even the holographic displays he kept. Thankfully Klary had seen fit to pile them in the small seating area in Thrawn’s old personal quarters.

She carefully picked through it all, finding the vase from Alderaan and a few other things that brought back bittersweet memories. She sat cross-legged staring at beautiful green and blue mosaic swirls; Elinor reached out.

It was different somehow; looking out from a place so well hidden. A different point of view.

_Athena?_

There was the burgundy color ripple in the realm in which she could peer into – yes it was from a different angle now, but it was no less distinct.

Her child.

_I am here._

_I am coming._

Elinor sighed in relief at the little pulse of understanding that seemed to radiate from her daughter.

 

Ezra Bridger saw the image in his mind’s eye. Athena’s intent was very clear.

_Why?_

She used the same insistence when she needed necessities like food or sleep.

_Please._

The young Jedi sent his concurrence; a mental picture of the metal sphere in his hand. He would make sure Elinor got it.

 

The troop transport settled down in the hanger bay as Lieutenant Dowry stood waiting. The ramp lowered and a Major strolled down.

“Major,” Dowry nodded, “I have orders to inform you and the passengers of the incoming Lambda that Commander Klary would like a debrief on the events that led to insurgents and imposters gaining access to an Imperial shuttle.”

“Oh, is that so, Lieutenant?” the Major grumbled.

Dowry blinked.

What was it with senior level officers today? Did a dewback piss in their cereal this morning or was sitting behind a rock for over a year starting to fray more than a few nerves?

“Uh, yes, sir.”

“Great! I’ll be happy to explain the whole damn thing! I called krayt spit when they said we didn’t need additional security! Those natives are savages!” the Major leaned in as if to convey a closely guarded secret, “You know they use _paper_ , right?”

The Lieutenant stared blankly.

The Major waved his arms exaggeratedly, “PAPER! It’s _lunacy_!”

“Yes, sir.”

The other man sighed exasperatedly, “I’ll let the Stormtrooper Captains know the Commander will require a debrief Lieutenant.”

“Yes, sir. Very good, sir.” Dowry took it as a dismissal.

Indeed, the Major meant it as such; certain that the kid didn’t want to hear how much Thae Cran truly hated the concept of paper money, paper books, paper plates, as well as the absolute worst type of paper (the kind still on Arton Dizon’s mind), _toilet paper_!

Cran watched as the Lieutenant left and smirked.

“Alright let’s get to work.” He growled

Ovally, Dizon, Yates, Tobevoh, and Toldera marched out in stormtrooper armor; the latter giving a small wave, a signal to the last passenger that no one else was in the hanger bay. Thrawn in his Mandalorian armor strode out last, sweeping the area with his hidden red gaze.

The proximity horns blasted indicating the arrival of the retrofitted Lambda.

Less than a minute later the shuttle had settled down next to the transport and Wilton, Yermentic, Pyrondi and Bridger had joined the others - Wilton dressed in white armor, Yermentic, Pyrondi and the Jedi dressed in the olive-green uniform of Imperial officers; Pyrondi had her Lieutenant Commander’s plaque proudly displayed, Yermentic and Bridger were less confident with _borrowed_ Lieutenant’s insignias pinned to their chests. The Jedi was holding something metallic in his left hand – his lightsaber was, however still clipped securely to his belt.

“Orders, sir?” Cran asked once everyone was together.

Thrawn’s helmeted head turned to Ezra, “Bridger?”

The young Jedi’s forehead wrinkled in concentration. His unfocused eyes narrowed, and he cocked his head as if asking a silent question. The Chiss managed to finally see clearly the object in the boy’s hand – the third thermal detonator from his work bench on their shuttle.

The Imperials looked uncomfortably around the bay, Dizon quietly chiding them to stand up straight and come across like they wanted to shoot something – there was nothing worse than a nervous looking stormtrooper. Their jitters were relieved slightly when Ezra stopped looking like he was playing a game show with himself.

“She’s in the detention area.” He looked over at Thrawn.

The armored figure nodded, “And Elinor?”

Bridger shook his head, “Nothing.”

There was a pause during which the Jedi and the Grand Admiral stood facing each other. Thrawn wondered whether he should dare ask about the detonator – now was not the time to enter into such a contest of wills.

He knew Bridger would do no intentional harm – a general unwillingness to inflict injury onto others was part of the Jedi ethos.

The stormtrooper-imposters began to fidget restlessly again, much to Dizon’s dismay, but given the concerned expression on the Jedi’s face, even the Captain shifted from one foot to the other uneasily. The Chiss slowly nodded and turned to the twitchy mass of white armor that was to be the invading force.

“Lieutenant Commanders Tobevoh, Yates and Pyrondi, you will position yourselves near the bridge. You will wait for further orders. Doctor Yermentic, you will make your way to sick bay, Jedi Bridger will go with you. You will attempt to determine if our-“ he paused and cocked his head slightly, “- _public service announcement_ was heard. Try to increase the audience. Major Cran, Captain Dizon, Lieutenant Commander Wilton and Lieutenants Toldera and Ovally, you are with me. We make our way to the detention level.”

 

Harding entered the mess and found that the stormtrooper who had reported the “disturbance” was _not_ exaggerating.

It was a full-scale riot.

But unlike most riots where there were at least two sides - clearly delineated camps – there were no sides. There was no aggressor and no defender. It wasn’t something mundane like Navigation was upset with Communications for siphoning off resources. There wasn’t even a food fight underway!

Instead, the entire dining hall was unanimously united in grief and rage. He had felt the emotions roar up like a tsunami as soon as he reached out with his gift. He inhaled deeply savoring it all.

A female Lieutenant was screaming at a stormtrooper demanding to speak to Commander Klary immediately. Someone dropped a bowl and it clattered to the floor nearby. Harding’s head snapped around. From the corner of his eye he saw a slight flicker – a video of Klary was being projected on the wall.

_Oh no._

Harding cursed; turning, he ran back to the Commander’s office.

 

He arrived just as she and Whittland returned. Klary was obviously happy about finally doing away with her arch nemesis and was in the mood to celebrate.

Harding’s news sobered her quickly.

“What do you mean, a _video_?” she snapped.

“Apparently there was footage of you committing murder, Commander.” Harding snarled.

She suddenly looked shocked, “The escape pod!”

_Ensign Yenita Brev_

The name rang in her mind…

Harding nodded once. Whittland although comfortably ignorant, looked between Klary and Harding suddenly feeling a stab of fear.

The Commander seemed to wilt slightly and then adjusted her uniform, “That’s most unfortunate.” she pressed her lips together tightly, “About how many are in the mess hall?”

“Four to five hundred.” He shrugged.

“A terrible loss.” She sighed, “A hydrochloric gas leak in the mess at such a busy time…the burdens of command.”

Klary sighed again and tapped her desk comm, “I would like to see Commander Tela in my office. I have an important matter I wish to discuss with my Head Engineer.”

 

Tela was almost to sick bay.

Something was going on.

Something was happening.

This would be the perfect time to hide Jenson and the child, because if Dalen had to guess, the Grand Admiral was making his move.

The Head Engineer’s comm chirped and out of habit he keyed it on and answered gruffly.

The stormtroopers voice was muffled by his helmet, filtered as always but obviously tense. “Commander Tela? Commander Klary requests you meet her in her office immediately.”

“I’m not fit for duty currently and am experiencing an illness. Please tell the Comman-“

“The Commander didn’t say when you were fit for duty, _sir_. She said _immediately_ ,” the trooper barked.

Tela hissed through the comm and thought the better part of valor was the find out what the woman wanted and then once he was released, go and finish his current task. Hiding Mira and the baby would be the easy part. Smuggling them out of sick bay would be tricky – this way he could afford to plan a little more, grab a few more tools, etc. Maybe the side trip would cast less suspicion on him.

Perhaps this was a good thing.

 

It was _not_ a good thing.

Commander Dalen Tela looked at his commanding officer and hated her, the ship she commanded, the Empire she supposedly represented and himself for his idealistic younger self for joining the Imperial Navy.

He despised all of it, even loathed the stale recycled air he was breathing.

“Commander, wouldn’t it be more prudent to fill the mess with something like vertigon gas in lieu of hydrochloric gas. That way you could capture the mutineers and interrogate the prisoners?”

Klary’s jaw tightened, “Dalen, If I show any weakness here, I will have perpetual uprisings. I am not the Grand Admiral,” she shook her head and added modestly, “and do not pretend to have the charisma he had.”

“I never said you were like the Grand Admiral,” Tela snapped feeling the stress of the situation.

Her eyes flashed in anger and the two men standing next to her fidgeted; one Tela didn’t recognize looked uncomfortable but the other was George Harding and he seemed exceedingly disgusted with Klary’s misfortune.

_The enemy of my enemy is my friend._

Dalen pushed the thought away. Harding struck him as just as vile as Klary, if not more so.

“Commander Tela, I am giving you a direct order.” She was struggling to maintain control over her voice. “You _will_ modify the alignment of the ventilation system. You _will_ inform me when the task is completed and when I tell you         to do so, you _will_ flood the aft mess hall of this ship with hydrochloric gas. Is that understood?”

There was a long terrible moment during which Dalen Tela was thinking of his death by the two sentinel droids very likely in the room adjacent to the office he was currently in. It wouldn’t be so bad? Being ripped apart by a droid…

If he could get everyone out of the mess hall – everyone in the dining area knew what Klary was; they had all seen her murder the Captain with their own eyes!

Then what would five hundred people do on an Imperial Star Destroyer?

Certainly, there weren’t _that_ many places to hide. They could take escape pods down to the surface?

_Mutiny._

The very idea made his head hurt; the concept caused his stomach to churn even more than what it already had been.

“Understood, ma’am.” Tela nodded to Klary.

She bowed her head, “Go, Tela. I don’t want to see you again until it’s over.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He turned and strode out of the office.

Grand Admiral Thrawn’s office.

It would be his office again soon because Commander Dalen Tela was going to disobey a direct order. Yes, he would modify the ventilation system - just not the way Klary wanted him too. He would lead the nearly five hundred officers, crewers, techs and off-duty stormtroopers out of the mess hall and the Head Engineer would find some way to keep Elinor Savona’s daughter safe.

 

George Harding watched the disgruntled man leave, fully aware that he was not going to do any of what the Commander had asked him to do. He was about to inform her of that when he abruptly felt something vaguely familiar. The mind was organized and meticulous; determined with emotions that were held in check, placed carefully under the surface.

_Thrawn._

“Oh Commander?”

Klary shot him an annoyed look. It would be best if he broke his news to her gently.

“I would respectfully urge you to take our little prize along with a squad of stormtroopers to the detention level.”

“What the kriff are you talking about?” She growled at him.

“I have good reason to believe the Grand Admiral is very much alive.”

 

Tela practically ran to sick bay after grabbing more tools and recollecting himself. He would hide the Grand Admiral’s child first before anything else. If Thrawn was really making a move against Klary, _that_ would be the first way the Commander would threaten him. He rounded the corner and came upon a squad of stormtroopers. The Head Engineer frowned. With the uproar in the mess, did the Commander think guarding sick bay was prudent in the event the upheaval turned into a full-scale mutiny?

Before he could enter the medical area the stormtrooper Captain, stopped him.

“We have orders to keep everyone from entering.”

“I was fixing a hydraulic unit and left some of my tools. I need to get them.” Tela tried to put as much force and annoyance into his tone as he could.

“It’s alright Captain, you can let him through.”

Dalen spun around to find Klary behind him smiling slightly, beside her was the large man he didn’t know – the civilian native. “Commander! I didn’t know you’d be here, I – I – is there something I can help with ma’am?”

“No,” her voice hardened, “other than the assignment you’ve already been given.”

“Yes ma’am, I was just getting my tools…” he mumbled.

_Not good, Dalen! Not good!_

“Yes, myself and Mr. Whittland are here to pick something up as well then we’ll be in the detention block. Once you have the – “ she cleared her throat, “system aligned properly, please execute, there is no need to inform me of the system alignments completion.”

Tela bobbed his head jerkily, “Yes, ma’am.”

He went in the sick bay, rummaged around, finding a few things that resembled tools, caught Medic Mira Jenson’s terrified eye and glanced at the Commander as she moved briskly from the back of the medical wing where the baby was being hidden.

The child’s screams could be heard even wrapped tightly in blankets and pressed in an empty storage pod.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello,
> 
> Just wanted to point out that Athena has been able to communicate with Ezra for some time (see Chapter 43: Awkward - in which Ezra confronts Elinor about her dream - Athena knew about it because of her bond with Elinor; she has been "communicating" with Ezra.) My thought here was that Athena is looking to expand the bond with Elinor but her mother has spent some much time trying to hide herself in so many ways that Athena is "talking" to Ezra to get some sort of advice. Periodically mentioned throughout is Ezra's observation that even the strong bond between Elinor and Athena is weakened by Elinor's continuous need to hide.
> 
> Having said that...what's up with that thermal detonator? 
> 
> And where the hell is that damn key code thingy? (Yeah don't forget that!!!)


	62. Breaking Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning:  
> Violence
> 
> In This Chapter:  
> Elinor's shield  
> Dalen Tela finds help  
> Walking into a trap  
> Make a hole.  
> "Never."  
> The baby's sleeping  
> This is not the trash you're looking for  
> Ezra made some friends...  
> ...Pyrondi calls Ezra to the bridge  
> Surprise, Greta!  
> Harding called away - Elinor dragged along  
> Klary says her good-byes to the man in the armor and takes Athena  
> The convictions of Ezra Bridger and George Harding  
> Spread the word - Pellaeon's last  
> Fatal programming   
> Seeing death

 

Elinor sat listening, waiting. She felt him but resisted the urge to reach out to get a better sense of him. It was relief enough to know he was here, and he was alive. Too much focus could put Harding and Klary on his trail and Thrawn needed enough time to retake the ship and find their daughter.

But she needed to find a way to help him – she needed a distraction of some kind…

The door from the office slid open and Harding sauntered in.

“I hope you weren’t too bored,” his smug smile reminded her of the first day she met him at TES.

Elinor shivered, but didn’t speak; choosing instead to focus on the wall behind him.

“I have something for you.”

He handed her something, placing it in her line of sight, forcing her gaze away from the plain durasteel to the bundle immediately next to her.

“I actually found it in your old quarters on Deck 17, perhaps it was something the Grand Admiral wanted you to have?”

She unfolded the parcel to find a dress. She had never worn it before, had never touched the fabric but was intimately familiar with it. It was burgundy, long and beautifully flowing; asymmetrically cut to give an almost floral impression. With its long sleeves and accompanying black shawl, it would likely be comfortable. Elinor stared.

_The dream._

“Wear it.”

Her eyes flashed up to his, “No.”

He smiled wolfishly, clearly enjoying himself, “I’ll even step out while you change.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

Harding’s eyes lit up in amusement, but he didn’t say anything; he only backed away to the door, “You have ten minutes – if you aren’t dressed in that time frame, I’ll have Agent Whittland come in and do it for you,” He chuckled.

_…A distraction of some kind…_

“What? Afraid I’ll punch you in the face again?”

Harding stopped and stood still as stone for a long unsettling moment, expressionless. He scrutinized her; his eyes roamed her figure. He wetted his lips and his gaze finally moved back to her face. He walked slowly over to her.

_Why, Elinor? Why?_

“I don’t think we have the time yet, my dear, considering your Grand Admiral is here,” he bent his head down slightly, pressing into her personal space. “but after I dispose of him, I don’t see a reason why we can’t pick up where we left off in my office.”

She felt the mental push against her shield and cringed.

_He knew Thrawn was here which meant Klary probably did too!_

Elinor tried to step back but he grabbed her arm and pulled her toward him.

“Do you remember that day in my office, Elinor?”

“Get away from me.” She hissed.

“Do you?”

“I _said_ get away from me!”

“What would have happened if I hadn’t scared you off, hmm? Taken things a little slower? Then Athena could have been _my_ daughter?”

Elinor snapped, “NEVER!”

The newly constructed lightsaber on his belt flew up and into her hand just as her old blade, the one Ezra had made for her flashed into existence, arcing to Harding’s hand.

Blue and purple beams of light collided as Elinor’s painfully-built meticulously-structured shield fell away to reveal a cold bottomless pit of absolute terror.

 

Ezra Bridger’s forehead wrinkled in concentration; the woman standing next to him clucked impatiently. They were almost to sick bay but in wanting to limit the number of interactions they experienced along the way, the young Jedi forced them to stop when groups of Imperials happened along their travel path. The doctor was getting impatient.

“The Grand Admiral said we were to see if our satellite transmission got through. Why not ask someone if they’ve seen any good Earth television lately?”

“Because I want to get to sick bay first and I want to do it without attracting attention. I’m not exactly popular and you’re a little too well liked.” Bridger growled.

Yermentic muttered something sounding suspiciously like Rodian curse words. Finally, once Ezra felt there was no one else coming, the two started down the long hall toward the medical area. The door at the end flew open and a haggard looking man ran through nearly knocking down both Ezra and Yermentic.

“Oh Bantha spit, I’m so sorry I wasn’t watching where I was go-“ the man stopped and looked at Yermentic his eyes widening suddenly in recognition, “Tabitha!?”

“Hello Dalen.”

“Tabitha! It’s you!” the man fell to his knees next to her, practically sobbing, “It’s really you! Are you here with Thrawn? Is he coming back?”

Ezra grabbed the man by the shoulder, “Whoa! Wait!”

“How do you know about Thrawn, Tela?” Yermentic was instantly suspicious.

“The baby!” the man sobbed, “The baby – she has to be his! And Elinor! Where’s Elinor?”

Yermentic sighed and patted the man’s hand sadly as he wept, “Alright Dalen, let’s get into sick bay. You and I are going to have a nice chat about what in the Nine Hells has been going on since I left.”

 

The five stormtroopers and the armored figure carefully picked their way to the detention level. A tall Mandalorian would stick out like a dewback in a dress at the Imperial court; they needed to tread cautiously.

Fortunately, there seemed to be some other issue in the aft mess area – Dizon had picked up on some of the chatter from two passing guards – and the stormtrooper presence was minimal.

“Sir, how do we proceed?” Cran asked moving to the front of the line closest to the Grand Admiral in disguise.

“My expectation is someone is staying with her in the cell block. Although I had supposed Commander Klary would place a child in sick bay, with the impending uprising, she would likely choose to have her moved to an isolated cell with a caretaker for safe keeping.”

“An armed caretaker.” Dizon nodded.

“Yes.”

Cran wrinkled his nose in a snarl, “Hostage situation.”

“Likely.”

It took a truly evil person to use a child as a weapon.

“In fact, I expect to walk into a trap.” The Chiss said matter-of-factly.

All five Imperials following him stopped, thunderstruck.

“Sir?” Ovally was the first to recover.

Wilton got it first, “Klary’s a coward, she’s going to be sitting in there with the baby!”

“Very good, Commander.” Thrawn nodded in satisfaction.

Major Cran was getting frustrated, “So?”

“Commander Klary has been denied my death already, Major. Let us not deny her my capture. Let us find a _discreet_ area to discuss this further.”

 

Yermentic and Ezra listened as the Head Engineer confessed his “evils”.

Tabitha had tried her best to sooth him while Ezra simply sat frowning at the man. The CMO shot the boy a look; asking for encouragement with her eyes and it seemed to rouse him from his deep thoughts.

“What were you doing when we found you?” the young Jedi asked Tela without preamble.

“I was going to try to realign the ventilation system to the bridge – use vertigon gas – take over the ship - after recruiting some of the crewers in the mess hall.”

Bridger studied him, “And Athena?”

Tela’s brow wrinkled in confusion.

Yermentic seeing the question forming, answered it for him preemptively, “The baby, Dalen.”

He nodded in understanding, “Klary has her, I tried to get to her before – I was going to rewire the lighting in the detention level…it would take some time, but…”

There was a very long pause. The Jedi continued to gaze hard at the Head Engineer; as if coming to a conclusion he bobbed his head and inhaled deeply.

“You didn’t do anything wrong. Klary used you.”

Dalen Tela’s shoulders hunched in a sort of relieved defeat and Tabitha rubbed his back comfortingly.

“There you have it Tela, even a Jedi thinks you did nothing wrong – and we need you – Elinor needs you. The Grand Admiral needs you!” Yermentic waved her arms exaggeratedly.

“They’re here? On the Chimaera?”

Both the Jedi and the doctor nodded.

Tela laughed, “Well I’ll be a rancor’s mama!”

“We’ve got to find a way to get the people out of the mess hall and spread the word about Klary – with the _evidence_ preferably.” Yermentic’s eyes shifted back to Ezra

“I can work on amplifying the signal from the planetary satellites.” Tela bobbed his head, eager to be of use.

“Good,” Ezra nodded. “Can you find a spot where I can make a hole?”

That stopped the man cold. Tela looked oddly at the boy then at Yermentic, searching for a translation from Jedi to Imperial. If the kid was thinking about poking holes all over the ship, then he had another thing coming.

Bridger moved his body slightly displaying his lightsaber, “I promise to be careful and only do what’s minimally required.”

Tela wrinkled his nose and grumbled under his breath, “Like you did at Lothal?”

“I have an interest in keeping the ship together since I’m on it.” He pointed out.

Tela raised his eye brows, “Yeah, like you were at Lothal?”

The doctor opened her mouth quickly to interject a few soothing words or perhaps her own scathing retort – she didn’t quite make it because the Head Engineer shrugged in resigned defeat.

“Fine. I’ll show you a tender part where you can cut in through the kitchen from the Deck 18 causeway-“ Ezra smiled politely at the man, “- and wipe that grin off your face – I’ll be the one that has to fix your damn mess!”

 

She was fast but not nearly as strong as he was. The sheer brutality of his attacks required her to widen her stance; reducing the speed of her counterattacks, thus giving up her primary advantage. In the confined space their blades cut through furniture and grazed the walls.

Harding was pressing her back against the durasteel. She tried to pivot around him, but he caught her, slammed his blade against hers, grabbing her wrist with his free hand and attempted to wrench her weapon out of her grip. Elinor tried to slam her knee into his groin, but he parried her move by kicking her shin and driving her against the wall with his shoulder.

Her lightsaber fell from her hand and she cried out; his body pressing against her as it clattered to the floor at their feet.

“Tell me, she would have been mine!” Harding growled in her ear.

“NO!”

He picked her up roughly and flung her violently against the opposite wall. Elinor’s head and neck slammed into the durasteel, she crumpled; sliding down near the corner as he stalked toward her. Casually, as if in afterthought he reached behind him, and her lightsaber flew into his outstretched hand. He activated it so both blades thrummed, one in each hand; he positioned the tips on either side of her head as she sat up, her back against the cold wall.

“Tell me.” He whispered.

She looked up at him defiantly, “Never.”

He nodded slowly, and smiled gently, “You will.”

Both blades moved closer, farther down, she tried to sink away from the heat of them but a flick of both wrists –

Elinor screamed as blue and purple light grazed the skin near her shoulders, hot tears spilled down her cheeks. Harding deactivated both blades and stared thoughtfully down at the woman; she had curled up on the floor with her head bent to her chest.

“Now,” he whispered, “you belong to me.”

 

The armored figure detached itself from the shadows; stealth was not warranted at this point – it should have been. He was after all, in the detention area of an Imperial Star Destroyer. The fact that there wasn’t even a whisper of a guard or stormtrooper indicated it was indeed a trap.

_No matter._

Sometimes the best way to defeat a trap was to trigger it.

He moved to the directory, quickly assessed which cells were occupied…

_There._

He strode down the gangway, weapon at the ready, glancing behind him to make sure he was not immediately being followed. The figure in Mandalorian armor reached the cell and triggered the release.

And just as expected, Commander Greta Klary sat on the cot, holding Athena; Agent Doug Whittland standing near her, his blaster aimed at the figure’s chest.

“Shhhh, the baby’s asleep.” She crooned as a squad of stormtroopers flooded the walkway behind him.

 

The engineer had left him standing in the middle of Deck 18’s causeway; to look a little less conspicuous Tela give him his datapad and the young Jedi occasionally looked up from it to see how many people were nearby.

_A lot._

A stray memory of Thrawn asking him to _discreetly_ cut through a building coming back to him…at least _then_ he was hidden in a giant trash can –

Ezra sighed and shook his head.

At least this time around he wouldn’t have to listen to Thrawn talk or have someone’s elbow in his ribs.

He didn’t have to go far to find what he was looking for – Imperial’s were used to eating unlike so many others in the galaxy that had to go without. Based on the contents of the bin, they were a wasteful lot too. The young Jedi wheeled the large rubbish container from the front of the sealed mess hall; positioning it over the spot Tela had indicated. He looked furtively around, waiting for the foot traffic to thin.

“Sir?”

Ezra pursed his lips, “Yes?”

Two stormtroopers had approached from behind him, both looking from the young Lieutenant to the trash bin next to him skeptically, “We were told to keep this area clear, sir.”

The young Jedi rolled his eyes and reached out with the Force, “This trash bin needs to stay here”

The stormtrooper cocked his head slightly, “This trash bin needs to stay here.” He said mechanically, nodding slowly.

“It’s not to be disturbed.”

“It’s not to be disturbed.” The trooper parroted.

“Very good soldier, thank you!” Ezra barked authoritatively, waving his hand using his interpretation of an arrogant Imperial dismissal.

“Yes, sir.”

The Jedi smirked at the departing stormtroopers as he hopped into the bin; he was so pleased with himself he almost forgot to take a big gulp of fresh air before diving under bits of half eaten Imperial garbage.

 

They exited single file, quietly as per the Jedi’s instructions. Many of them were skeptical but peer pressure won out. Ezra let them out in groups – too many on the Deck 18 causeway would have alerted the stormtroopers on patrol that were sympathetic to Klary’s regime.

They were given instructions to meet in the Engineering Lab on Deck 17. Yermentic and Tela would hopefully know what to do with them.

He had another task.

 

Lieutenant Commander Pyrondi stared out the transparasteel at the blue-green world below them, hidden slightly by the gray moon the Chimaera was currently hovering behind. She waited and watched.

Her comm pinged, she didn’t even jump at the sound.

“Yes?”

“I made some friends; they're headed to Engineering. What do you need now?”

Pyrondi smiled, “I need you here. It’s time to take back what’s ours.”

 

Klary stood, her smile malicious as she strode over to the figure in Mandalorian armor. Her service weapon was out and at the ready just in case Thrawn decided to be difficult despite her holding his daughter – who knew what aliens thought of their own young.

“Welcome aboard _my_ ship, Grand Admiral.”

The stormtrooper behind him, confiscated his weapon; he remained silent and unmoving. She sighed happily as she watched what had once been a great tactician taken down. Greta Klary had bested him. She’d gone head-to-head with the Chiss and outsmarted him.

“Don’t be shy Thrawn.” She batted her eyes, “Go ahead and take off the helmet.”

The man cocked his head in a dubious gesture, and she motioned with her RK-3 for him to obey. Slowly carefully the man in the armor, released the chin guard and pulled off the helmet.

Klary’s eyes flashed in rage.

“Surprise!” Thae Cran snorted, “Did you miss me Greta!”

The Commander’s scream was ferial, like she would claw the Major’s eyes out for even daring to look at her. She turned and keyed her comm.

“Harding!” she shrieked, “To the detention level. NOW!”

 

George Harding cursed at the little device in his hand. Klary was interrupting, what his gift had told him would be an important time.

His time with Elinor. His time to start his manipulations.

He had managed to convince her to wear the dress; watched hungrily as she stripped down to her underwear and clothed herself again in flowing burgundy. Both shoulders were burned, the smell of charred flesh not enough to discourage his lust.

And now, the Commander was impinging upon the progress he had made with her. He gently smoothed her hair away from her face as she flinched away; he made a soothing noise – pretended it was something tender.

He would take her with him to the detention block. With any luck she could witness her Grand Admiral writhe around in agony like an animal – maybe she would be more amenable to his tenderness then…

 

She was impossibly mad. She could have killed the man standing before her as he smirked arrogantly at her. But that would defeat the purpose.

No, Major Thae Cran would suffer.

And then the man who sent him to his death would suffer even more.

Klary knew that Harding would extract everything from the one-time Imperial surveillance specialist. It could very well be he knew where the key code was. Thrawn may have disclosed its location to his small band of misfits in hopes that one of them could get their hands on it.

_Maybe one of them had it now?_

Harding would find out.

In the interim, she would return to her office and check up on Commander Tela’s progress.

“Mr. Whittland?”

The FBI agent behind her stirred.

“You will remain here and support Mr. Harding in whatever way he needs. I’ll be in my office.” She smiled sweetly at Whittland and turned her gaze to Cran, the smile becoming brittle, “Enjoy all Nine Hells, Thae. Give Gilad my regards.”

“He’s not there Greta,” Cran shook his head, “and you’ll be roasting before I do.”

She sneered at him as she left; the bundle wrapped delicately in the blankets she carried in her arms was trying desperately to wiggle away from her - as if the baby girl could sense the evil radiating from the woman holding her.

 

Ezra Bridger walked briskly toward the Chimaera’s bridge, no longer feeling compelled to move covertly around the ship. He was dressed as a Lieutenant and with that and what he assumed as a reasonable approximation of an Imperial swagger he marched around self-importantly like he himself was a Grand Admiral.

There was just one problem, however.

He smelled _terrible_.

Several techs stopped in their tracks sniffing the air and shifting their gaze guiltily upon learning that their olfactory senses had not betrayed them - the culprit really _was_ the young officer that had strutted by. Ezra took it all in stride; riding the turbolift with a small smirk while a few crewers tried to cough carefully – failing miserably in their attempts not to gag.

The young Jedi was halfway to the bridge, wondering idly if Pyrondi would even allow him near – she hated strong smells – when the wave of pain and fear swept around him like a cold blanket. His lightsaber was instantly in his hand as he turned.

George Harding was tugging at Elinor’s arm; she had skidded to a halt upon seeing him and gasped.

“YOU!” Harding roared at the young Jedi.

The purple lightsaber Elinor had lost at the Vogue was ignited as Harding Force pushed her up against the bulkhead with enough power to drive her into unconsciousness. Ezra’s blade was at the ready as he felt the man try to press on him mentally.

“You’re not going to win here, Harding.”

The Jedi’s words were filled with conviction, but so too was Harding’s gift.

“You’re wrong, my young friend – I have everything I need to win! I have Elinor.”

 

Yermentic and Tela were in the Engineering Lab with about five hundred other Imperials. The Head Engineer was making coded copies of the data being projected from the planet to the satellites in orbit. He recorded five minutes of it just to be certain he captured all of it and it would play over again completely at least twice.

It was a lot of information.

He went about searching through all of it – looking for that one familiar piece of data. That one painfully recognizable clip of the woman currently in command of the ISD Chimaera murdering in cold blood a good man and the rightful commander of the ship. Some of the techs and crewers started combing and sifting through all of it too.

Finally, after twenty minutes of searching, one of the techs cried out in startled victory, “I found it!”

A huge collective sigh traveled through the cavernous lab as Dalen moved to peer over the woman’s shoulder. Sure, enough there it was.

_“Greta, I wish I could say it’s good to see you again.”_

_“Gilad Pellaeon, it is nice to see you.”_

_“That’s Captain Pellaeon, to you.”_

_“Not anymore.”_

Even after seeing it so many times, Tela couldn’t help but jerk back, wincing…and then it would play again.

He composed himself, Yermentic beside him, “Alright, let’s make some copies and start showing it off.”

It was time to mutiny.

 

She walked into the office, her now-familiar space with the blue skinned child screaming and thrashing wildly. Why would anyone want children, was beyond her. It was almost a perverse sort of fantasy – Grand Admiral Thrawn as a father. What would a cold-blooded callous alien be like as a parent? It was probably just as well that the child was with Elinor instead of the Chiss – unfortunately, the girl would probably grow up to be like her father.

_Unbearably arrogant._

_Coolly detached._

_Alien._

She cautiously opened the door to the living quarters that she had never used – they were terrifyingly strange to her, as if their previous occupant was analyzing her very soul by the artwork hanging on the walls. Even taking it all down and piling it in a corner, Klary couldn’t rest easy. She would destroy it soon enough. Once Thrawn was gone.

Maybe she’d make him watch as she burned his paintings, shredded his tapestries, smashed his ceramic pots. He would likely find that more disturbing than her threatening his daughter and the woman that professed to love the monster.

She snorted as she placed the baby down on the bed and exited the room, closing the door behind her. Harding would deal with the child when he returned. She was _not_ a caretaker.

The Commander circled around to her desk. She sat down heavily and put her boots up on the edge, closing her eyes slightly as she rubbed her temples.

The glowing red eyes that haunted her dreams moved out of a darkened corner. She cocked her head to the side and arched her brow at him, a small smile on her face.

“I was wondering when you’d show up.”

“Indeed.”

The once proud Grand Admiral, so regal in white was now dressed in olive green clashing terribly with his blue skin. He leveled his blaster at her, his alien features expressionless, “Greta Klary, you have committed treasonous acts against the Empire and the Imperial Navy. I have been given the authority by Emperor Palpatine under the auspices of my command, to take you into custody so that you may be held to account for your crimes.”

She raised her chin and smiled slyly, “Is that so?”

Thrawn didn’t respond but continued to hold her gaze.

The Commander sighed, “I have a better idea.”

She lowered her feet from the desk keeping her hands where the Chiss could see them; her knee pressing the button she had Dalen Tela install on the side of her desk. The side door once leading to his personal dojo slid open and the two sentry droids she so often used to make a point, marched in heading directly for the Grand Admiral.

Thrawn shifted slightly, dropping his blaster as Klary smiled sweetly, steepling the tips of her fingers in front of her as she watched him try to fight off the two.

He spun around, sweeping his leg up to kick one over as the other pressed in to attack. The Chiss ducked at the last second and she found herself being impressed over his speed and alertness. It would be a shame when they finally did catch up with him – no more entertainment, and Klary had to admit watching the alien move around supplely was fun.

The second droid had righted itself and leapt ferociously at the Grand Admiral, who darted between the two such that both sentries had their back to the Commander, and he was facing Klary. He kicked the left solidly in the chest and it went flying on top of the desk, prompting a string of expletives from the woman sitting behind it. She looked up to see Thrawn’s lips creep up in a tiny smirk.

_He wants to be obnoxious? I can accommodate him._

She removed her RK-3 service weapon from its holster at her belt. It had gotten quite a bit of use lately but that was ok - she didn’t mind at all.

She aimed carelessly toward the Chiss as he dodged a backhanded swing from one of the droids and grabbed the leg of the other after an attempted kick to his abdomen.

_Let’s see what a nice blaster burn to the hip would do to your level of arrogance…_

She fired, missed her target but hit the wall immediately behind the droid Thrawn had kicked back – he sent it once again flying against her desk. This time however, when the droid clambered up it did not turn its terrifying gaze back to the Grand Admiral; it instead moved toward the Commander.

Her annoyance quickly turned to terror as the second droid joined the first.

_Tela, the fool didn’t change the original programming!_

Klary fired frantically at both but there was little her RK-3 could do against two sentry droids, her eyes shifted to the Grand Admiral watching from behind the two advancing killing machines.

_And Thrawn no doubt has his override command_!

She was about to shout for him, plead her case – try to convince him Harding tainted her mind with delusions of grandeur, but the first droid knocked the blaster out of her hand, shattering her wrist with the force of the blow. The second grabbed her by the shoulders and flung her up against the wall – as it was programmed to do, despite the shrieks of pain and terror.

Her screams pierced the air as Commander Greta Klary saw what so many others had seen before her. The red splatter against the black sheen of an unfeeling machine.

She saw her death.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello,
> 
> So about that key code? ...The next chapter is called Chimaera Rising  
> So about the showdown between Harding and Ezra (pfffff) we can't have the boys have all the fun, can we?  
> And the detonator? And Elinor's dream?   
> You know someone else has to die, right?
> 
> Once again thank you for reading all this - your misery is almost over. Hang in there! :)


	63. Chimaera Rising

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning:  
> Violence, A ((cough)) character death ((cough)) 
> 
> In This Chapter:  
> A gentle reminder  
> Simple mutiny  
> Pyrondi is summoned away  
> The Louvre - between the pages  
> Inspiration and contraception  
> Thrawn's contingency plan for his daughter  
> Spacer's tape?  
> Enter Athena  
> Armored up and ready to go.  
> TL-7903's warped vengeance  
> Escape to the bridge  
> Pyrondi's return  
> Unconvinced Squad - TL-7903  
> The dream, Harding's triumph and Thrawn's death

 

Elinor Savona blinked away tears; the pain was terrible, and the smell of her own blackened flesh made her almost retch. She reached out; felt Thrawn, felt Athena…they were safe. The clash of lightsabers near her made her brow wrinkle.

_Ezra._

_Harding._

Her eyes flicked open wider, but her vision remained blurry. She sat up shakily, clawing at the nearby wall in an effort to get to her feet. Just as she finally made it, there was a push from behind, like a physical thing, slamming her into the cold metal; her head violently wrenched back and her chin hitting the durasteel. Elinor felt her ears pop and her teeth grate, biting her tongue and muffling a scream into a grunt.

It seemed to amplify the pain in her shoulders, making her breathe through her nose. Her stomach rebelled at the smell and the taste of blood. She heaved in air as she crawled on her hands and knees away from the wall.

Through her haze she made out the flashes of purple, the familiar wiry figure of Ezra Bridger. Harding was holding his own against him, despite the Jedi’s training, using his savagery and brute strength to his advantage. It probably wouldn’t last. Ezra was younger, faster and Harding knew it.

Harding would try to out maneuver the younger man sooner rather than later before his perceived advantage slipped. She sat up on her knees, trying desperately to focus on the battle between the two. Elinor felt a wave of helplessness wash over her – she was better off remaining hidden –

The feeling was fleeting, a small brush against her mind. A gentle reminder.

_You’re not alone!_

A small sob escaped her.

_Athena._

Elinor gritted her teeth. Reaching out she shed her grief over the losses she had suffered, her pain, her anger and her fear.

She hadn’t realized that her eyes had closed in concentration until they gently opened to find the lightsaber in her hand.

 

Agent Whittland was getting restless. He kept his gun trained on the man in the armor, the man he knew as Officer Cran of the 76th Precinct. Karma was a beautiful, simple thing and Cran was about to watch it unfold.

When the FBI agent wasn’t attempting to occupy his impatient mind with thoughts of sweet revenge, he was wondering what he would do with his stipend from Klary. The Bureau owed him a vacation. Perhaps he’d go to Las Vegas. He had met two of his four previous ex-wives in Vegas, but otherwise he’d had good luck in Sin City.

Cards. Booze. Women.

He sighed, relishing in thoughts of the simple life he’d have after all this was over. Cran looked over at him in mild amusement and he resisted the urge to cold cock him with the blaster Klary had given him. He’d get his in the end, when Harding got here.

A thought occurred to him, then.

“How’s Officer Pyrondi doin’? She survive her little crash?” Whittland chuckled, “Or was she eaten by a bear, like I hoped?”

Thae Cran’s jaw clenched just noticeably.

“Oh, she survived, and she still thinks you’re an idiot.”

This time Whittland did allow his anger to get the better of him. He brought the butt of the gun down on top of the man’s head. The Major collapsed groaning in pain.

The agent snarled, “She’ll get what’s coming to her.”

The man rubbed the back of his neck and looked up at Whittland squinting, “You mean a marriage proposal and a promotion? I’ve got no doubts, shit-for-brains.”

He was about to hoist Cran up and take another swing at him when he heard the sound of blaster fire in the hall outside of the cell.

“What the fuck is going on now?”

Whittland marched to the door, keeping an eye carefully on the man sitting on the floor. He pressed his back to the door lock and keyed it open; arching his back, leaning out he looked out into the walkway. As soon as his face peeked around the edge, bolts of plasma erupted in front of and behind him.

“Sir get back!” snapped a stormtrooper from behind him.

The white armored soldier plowed into him, pressing him into the cell. A few others began to advance past the cell door.

“What the hell is going on?” Whittland barked.

“Mutineers, sir.” The trooper replied, “We need to get Imperial command to safety. Do you know where Commander Klary and Mr. Harding are sir?”

“Klary was supposed to be in her office, Harding was supposed to be on his way here.”

“Here?” the stormtrooper’s head snapped around at Whittland

“Yeah.” The FBI agent frowned, “Why?”

“Because,” the stormtrooper turned and leveled his BlasTech E-11 at Whittland, “He’s late.”

The stormtrooper Captain had his weapon set for stun but the blast blew the man up against the wall of the cell. The two Imperials in the cell with him tried to feel guilty, but they just couldn’t summon the emotional fortitude.

 

She was not really present – her mind was on the planet below.

_“Crissa. Ya gotta come back after yer done up there.”_

_“I will!”_

_“Ya gotta ‘cause I love you.”_

Pyrondi glanced down at her comm before answering.

“Yes?”

“Please come to my office. It is safe.”

“Yes, sir.”

 

Grand Admiral Thrawn walked slowly into what had once been his private quarters. He inhaled slowly, deeply. It had once been his home – not much of one but his, nonetheless. The memories he had were mostly recent – involving Elinor. His brow furrowed with emotion. The noises emanating from the bedroom moved him from his musings. The Chiss hurried toward the gurgled cooing sounds and found his daughter staring up at him. Upon seeing him she happily kicked her feet out, unbundling herself from the blanket she was wrapped in and Thrawn could not help but smile thinly.

“ _Rest a while, little one. I have something I must do.”_ He said in Cheunh, smoothing her wild hair back against her head.

She kicked again excitedly but then remained still, babbling animatedly with both of her hands clasped together.

Months prior, upon sneaking in to steal his armor he had confirmed it was still there. On the shelf, he had not disturbed it, fearing that to even move it would bring scrutiny upon it.

Thrawn picked up the book, sat on the foot of the bed looking at the cover. He remembered their conversation like it had happened moments prior.

“… _From our conversations, it seems you appreciate art_ …”

Elinor didn’t know it but by giving him the book on the Louvre, she had opened the flood gates. The emotions she had stirred within him…

The Grand Admiral sighed, staring off into space.

Finally, he opened the book to find a data card tucked in between the last few pages. The card fit perfectly into his palm and when he held it carefully up to the light, a nine-digit code could be seen along with a one-minute access timer to the side, indicating how long the code was valid. Once the timer ticked down, the code would reset.

The Chimaera would need the twenty-four-digit access code from the ship’s registered commander and the nine-digit key code if she was ever to be anything other than a floating city.

Thrawn smiled.

It was time.

 

Dalen Tela smiled a real genuine smile for the first time in months. The “data” was copied, and the messengers were ready. What was he going to tell them – something inspiring before they went out to various parts of the ship, perhaps to get shot at by forces loyal to a traitor?

Tabitha Yermentic saved him, and he found himself looking at her with fresh eyes.

“Hey!” she stood on top of a lab table, much the way Elinor used to in order to get everyone’s attention, “HEY!” the CMO whistled loudly.

Everyone stopped they’re nervous chatter and turned to the doctor.

“Grand Admiral Thrawn is on the Chimaera. Right now.”

A murmur went through the crowd – gasps, and relieved cries; there were smiles and faces pinched in cynicism over what some thought as betrayal. Yermentic pressed on.

“If you think he left on his own free will, you don’t know Thrawn. In reality, the Grand Admiral as well as the Captain and crew on the bridge at the time were held in the detention block of this very ship for months. He was tortured into giving up information on the Chimaera.”

This time there were gasps through the whole crowd.

“He did give up some, but not all. Myself and a stormtrooper, TC-704, Captain Arton Dizon found him and the others after piecing together several clues about what happened.”

She paused, as if uncertain whether to continue.

“Many of you in Engineering remember Elinor Savona…What you may not know is…” Yermentic swallowed, her eyes shifted to Tela and he nodded, “the Grand Admiral was in love with her.”

There was no reaction.

Yermentic raised her arms in surrender, “What, seriously? Does no one believe in _sex_ anymore?”

One of the crewers nearest to the table she was standing on, rolled her eyes, “Ma’am, it’s not that at all. It’s that everyone already knew that he was smitten with her.”

“Smitten?” Yermentic wrinkled her brow in frustration, “ _That’s_ what they’re calling it now?”

Tela leaned over hissing, “Tabitha, what are you _doing_?”

The CMO stomped her foot, wiggled her index finger to the crowd of people in front of her in reprimand, “After this is over, I’m giving each and every one of you _the talk_!”

There were several hoots of laughter and an Ensign in the back cried out, “Oh kriff not again!”

Yermentic’s finger motioned critically toward the man provoking chuckles to resonate through the room, “I see you Greer! There’ll be a quiz for you, you little Bantha shit!”

She let the laughter die down, then continued somberly, “They didn’t know, but when Elinor left the Chimaera, she was pregnant.”

The reaction was as expected, gasps, murmured exchanges, speculations. The doctor refused to let the talk escalate to a frenzy, “As you can imagine, Klary tried to use Elinor and the child against the Grand Admiral. It was imperative for Thrawn to remove himself from the situation as he recognized himself as a liability to the safety of his crew and his ship…but now he’s back. He wants us to take back what’s ours.”

“What about Elinor and the baby?”

Yermentic paused, “They’re here too.”

Another wave of excitement rolled through the crowd, the engineers and techs practically clawing through the durasteel, ready to go out and broadcast the news through the entire ship. But there were still a few faces, Yermentic vaguely recognized, that looked troubled. Apparently, the sense of betrayal had hit the younger officers hard and they loathed to give up their grudges.

“So how is he not in the same situation? He’d still be a liability as a commander, wouldn’t he?” someone shouted drawing a rumble from the group of people nearby.

“Grand Admiral Thrawn’s place as rightful commander of the ISD Chimaera should never have been in question.” There was an edge of bitterness to her voice.

“This is the Imperial Navy – you’ve taken _oaths_! Thrawn has taken the same oath. He has been trying all along to do what is best – that is his _oath_ , his _promise_ , his _burden_. You’ve got to make peace with your conscious. What does the oath you took means to _you_? What did _you_ promise to the _Empire_ and to _yourselves_? Do you let a traitor reign and disregard her cold-blooded murder of a good man who fought for the Republic and then the Empire? Ignore the chain of command as she did? Do you turn your backs on a capable, brilliant leader who has worked his entire career to raise those around him, despite being hated because he’s not _human_?”

Tabitha despised herself for the last question, she found it had made her voice tremble and the tears that had threaten to fall during her plea, cascaded from her unblinking eyes. The response to her eloquence – or what constituted articulacy in her mind - was utter silence.

Yermentic sighed.

“Alright, now before you all go, does anyone have any questions I can quickly answer about contraception?”

 

Pyrondi entered the familiar space and looked around. Two sentry droids stood in ready standby near the desk, the remains of Greta Klary lay crumpled on the floor in the corner. There was a mixture of relief and disgust that swept through Crissa. Relief that the Commander was dead – it was finally over - and disgust at herself for feeling the relief – was she becoming a vindictive monster?

The Grand Admiral entered the office; stepping through the door from his private residence and turning to face her. He carried Athena gently over his shoulder and the baby girl toyed with the snaps on her father’s collar.

Pyrondi pressed her lips together in a tight smile, trying hard not to laugh.

“Lieutenant Commander Pyrondi reporting as ordered, sir.”

The Grand Admiral smiled broadly, “Ah, Commander, I have something for you.”

Athena wiggled in his arms and his glowing red eyes moved toward her, his brow arching in amusement.

“Actually Commander, I have two things.”

“Yes, sir.”

“First,” he handed her a data card, “you will take this and go to the bridge, wait for my instructions.”

Crissa gasped as she took the card, looking down at it in wonder, “Sir? But sir?” her widened eyes met his, “Sir, this is the key code to the Chimaera!”

“It is, indeed.” Thrawn smirked, “And I am entrusting it to you.”

“Sir…I-I don’t know what to say.”

Thrawn’s brow quirked up in wry amusement, “Perhaps, thank you?”

Pyrondi snorted a laugh, “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

Thrawn nodded once gravely.

“What else, sir?”

The Chiss Grand Admiral suddenly seemed sad, as if they were discussing funeral arrangements, “Something far more important.”

Crissa inhaled sharply.

“I wish for you to take Athena with you. Do not unseal the door to the bridge until you hear from myself, Elinor or Ezra Bridger.” Thrawn strode to the door of the office, beckoning her to follow, “If something should happen to both myself and Elinor, you are to leave Athena to the care of Andrew Savona. Do you understand?”

The human woman looked up at the Grand Admiral her eyes rimmed in red; she wanted very much to tell him that she didn’t understand; that he needed to find someone else, but she couldn’t. Pyrondi owed it to him, she owed it to Elinor and most importantly, she owed it to Drew.

She swallowed hard, “Yes, sir.”

“Good.”

He handed over the baby who fussed slightly, likely sensing the tension and the Lieutenant Commander moved to leave.

“Crissa?”

She turned back.

Thrawn bowed his head, “Thank you.”

 

“Not bad, Super Sphincter Artie.” Cran smirked at Dizon.

The Major couldn’t see the stormtrooper Captain’s expression but was willing to bet the Emperor’s jewels it was a I-wouldn’t-even-spit-on-you-if-you-were-on-fire-right-now sort of look. To confirm his suspicion, Dizon ripped off his helmet.

“With all due respect _sir_ , suck vacuum.”

Cran grinned evilly but was denied the opportunity to respond by the arrival of the Grand Admiral. Both men stood a little straighter and schooled their faces. Thrawn’s glowing red eyes took in the scene, flicking to the unconscious FBI agent sprawled on the floor of the cell as well as the Captain and Cran still dressed in Mandalorian armor.

“I see our ruse worked.”

“Yes, sir. Wilton and Toldera were the mutineers, Ovally and I were the rescuers.” Dizon chuckled, gesturing down to Whittland with his eyes, “He didn’t suspect anything. He did say Klary was headed back to her office and Harding was supposed to be here.”

Thrawn’s eyes flashed, “Here?”

The Major nodded, “Yes, sir.”

The Chiss frowned and turned quickly to Cran, “I believe it is time for you to return what you have borrowed, Major.”

Cran squinted in mild confusion at the Grand Admiral for a fraction of a second, prompting a raised eyebrow and a slightly amused expression for his commanding officer.

“Oh right!” he grabbed the chest plate and started loosening it, “yes, Admiral.”

Doug Whittland abruptly grunted, the discomfort of having been stunned starting to set in. Thrawn calmly set his blaster to stun as Cran shot a derisive look at the FBI agent and handed the helmet to the Grand Admiral. The Chiss took it, looked down at it thoughtfully; Whittland began to raise himself just as the Chiss casually stunned him again – sending him face first into the cold floor.

“I have something in mind, Major.”

Cran stopped, “Sir?”

Thrawn smiled tightly, his eyes shifting to Dizon, “Captain, do you have access to spacer's tape?”

 

The coolness of the hilt was soothing; a comfort to the fire that seemed to consume her from within.

Calm.

Peace.

Passive.

_You’re not alone._

The red that seemed to taint her vision cleared, the burning fervor waned and the heat making the previously perceived chill of the lightsaber’s metal seem ordinary.

George Harding had managed to separate himself from his opponent long enough to stare at her, his face twisting in amused arrogance. The young Jedi pressed toward the man in an attempt to capitalize on his obvious advantages – youthful speed and experience. But despite Ezra’s skill Harding’s raw viciousness was primitively violent; his hatred clearly fed his physical strength and he continued to batter at the Jedi’s defenses like a mad man.

Elinor watched the two, not quite able to move her physical body. Her mind worked furiously though, studying the man’s methods, the way he held the weapon – the beam itself. He occasionally flicked at the blade length adjustment dial when he jabbed or parried downward away from his own body, then turning the knob slightly back again.

She had never used it herself and hadn’t built any such adjustment option in her own, choosing instead to create a set blade length by calculating the energy channel’s required output to establish the beam’s dimensions.

_He may be faster and stronger, but I’m smarter._

If she could just get a tight enough focus on that little knob…

Without warning the two dueling men stutter stepped as if they both tripped over something simultaneously. She felt it too and her body jerked, finally responding to the demands being placed upon it.

_Athena!_

Lieutenant Commander Crissa Pyrondi had exited a nearby turbolift to find a war being waged that she was ill equipped to handle.

 

Whittland stood rigidly in the armor they had placed him in. Thrawn having suspected he would disagree vehemently and quite possibly attempt to alert others of their subterfuge had used spacers tape over his mouth before shoving the helmet roughly over the man’s head. The Grand Admiral took a rather perverse sort of pleasure in the Major’s harsh treatment of the FBI agent, recalling Elinor’s recount of her experience with the man.

 

Thrawn’s own armor was in place before the party moved cautiously out of the detention block choosing to head toward the bridge. As they approached the forward turbolifts, a holo projection appeared – the scene painfully familiar to the Imperials, played before them like a vision.

Gilad’s voice rang clear and seemed to vibrate with power and authority…

_…“That’s Captain Pellaeon, to you.”…_

Once again everyone apart from the Grand Admiral and of course Agent Whittland ground their teeth under their stormtrooper helmets.

Whittland sneered under his, but Thrawn smiled sadly.

_Your sacrifice will not be in vain, old friend._

The image flicked suddenly to Tabitha Yermentic with the Chimaera’s Head Engineer, Commander Dalen Tela standing by her side. The Chiss felt a wave of relief and gratitude toward the man. Although he had not agreed with the Grand Admiral’s decision to leave without her, he admired Elinor a great deal and would have therefore, remained loyal to Thrawn out of respect for her.

_… “Commander Greta Klary committed high treason by staging a mutiny against the rightful chain of command aboard this vessel – as determined by Emperor Palpatine and the Imperial Navy you have all taken oaths to serve. Loyal Imperial personnel are to remain at their stations until further orders are given by the Chimaera’s true commander – Grand Admiral Thrawn.”…_

The scene recycled through with the Captain once again proudly standing against his enemy.

Thrawn vaguely heard, Dizon swear behind him and smack at the helmeted head of the FBI agent.

“You just became very popular, _sir_.”

 

Stormtrooper TL-7903 burst into the office to find the gore. He had seen comparable sights often, after all, he was in charge of the disposal of whatever the droids had left behind. He didn’t mind; the Commander’s rewards were exponentially greater than the distastefulness of the work and she wasn’t an alien like Thrawn. He did take issue with this particular scene, however.

Klary looked very much like what he’d have been tasked with removing. The string of curses were still being venomously spewed when the holo image appeared in front of him; momentarily blocking the view of the carnage.

The image of the Commander shooting the Captain did not sway him; mostly because he was in charge the disposal of _that_ as well. What did move him to action was the CMO’s final words.

_“…until further orders are given by the Chimaera’s true commander – Grand Admiral Thrawn”…_

_NO._

He would not be ordered about by an alien again. The Clone Wars had taken his father, uncle, aunt, and three cousins and the whole damn thing had been alien led to support their deviant agenda. Thrawn likely had the same evil plan – they were all conniving; _every_ single alien!

There was no question as to what he should do. He would enlist the help of the others – and there were others; plenty of them. And they would go to the bridge.

The so-called Grand Admiral would make concessions…starting with his life. It would be the stormtrooper’s own personal vengeance for his loss; a small rectification of the wrong done to the galaxy during the Clone Wars by _aliens_.

TL-7903 stormed out of the office. It was time to wage his own little war

 

Ezra Bridger felt her presence nearby; the brief sensation of worry that enveloped him – how was he to protect her adequately _and_ ward off a murderous George Harding. Concurrent with his slight anxiety, he felt his opponent’s satisfaction.

Elinor’s panic swept over every surface like a vapor in the air as Crissa Pyrondi stepped out of the turbolift looking terrified. Athena was surprisingly quiet in her arms. Ezra reached out to the child – they had communicated in images and feelings – something she had not been able to do with her mother; Elinor had hidden herself away, even from her own child.

_Your mother will be safe. You know this._

The affirmative was first an emotional response then an image – the little being’s premonition and what Ezra had discovered was called Third Sight by her father.

Another image flashed in his mind; he heard the baby wail pitifully.

Mandalorian armor being pierced by a purple lightsaber blade.

The Jedi winced even as he deflected an overhead attack from Harding, pushing the man a good four meters back against the wall. It offered enough time to the Lieutenant Commander; allowing her to dodge behind Ezra as he advanced pressing his purple blade to the other’s.

Harding tried to slide away from him to intercept Pyrondi, Athena in arms, but the younger man blocked him, lunging with arm outstretched. The force of Harding’s blade against his own nearly knocked it out of his hand and Ezra felt his teeth vibrate with the impact. He righted himself in time to deflect another mercilessly brutal swing.

Pyrondi was running in a desperate attempt to get to the safety of the next passage leading to the Chimaera’s bridge. Harding’s attacks had destabilized the young Jedi’s defenses long enough for his eyes to track her and the child she would protect with her life. The Lieutenant Commander could feel his stare as she continued to race to the blast door; a terror unlike anything she ever experienced swept through her.

_…“Crissa. Ya gotta come back after yer done up there.”…_

She kept going; she didn’t turn but Pyrondi heard the commotion, screams, the sound of blaster fire and the distinctive thudding of someone running after her. Crissa skidding to the blast door, holding Athena up against her shoulder with one arm; slapping the controls to the door with the other. She risked a glance behind her and saw Ezra Bridger sprinting toward her.

“GO!” he screamed, lightsaber in hand

She didn’t need convincing as she rounded the corner; the young Jedi following her all the way to the bridge. Tobevoh and Yates were stationed just outside the door.

 

Of course, the bridge officers and crewers had seen the ship-wide holo broadcast; it had helped Tobevoh and Yates explain better their purpose and goals, once the young Lieutenant - Dowry - had seen his Captain murdered by a woman who had just threatened his own life.

Both Lieutenant Commanders were gratified to know that Dowry remembered them as did the young Ensign at Navigation.

However, it was Lieutenant Commander Crissa Pyrondi’s reemergence on the Chimaera’s bridge that was the deciding factor. The former weapons officer had been idolized by the younger officers, techs and crewers and just as respected as Commander Tela, Major Cran, Captain Pellaeon and the Grand Admiral.

Her arrival was a sign.

The mynock was going to get sucked into the main intake…Or as they said on Earth: The shit was going to hit the fan.

 

When the turbolift door opened Thrawn immediately took in the chaos – Pyrondi running with baby in arms, Bridger blocking Harding’s homicidal attacks; he was gleefully confident he would get to her and Athena. Elinor seemed to be slowly coming out of a haze – lightsaber in hand but not activated – she seemed to perceive his arrival and spun around, her face ashen.

“THRAWN! GO BACK!” the panic in her eyes was unmistakable.

His appearance seemed to quicken her recovery from whatever trauma she had suffered previously because she activated her blade and ran toward Harding. The Jedi saw her advance; somehow, making the judgement that she was capable enough to counter the enemy’s onslaught, he pushed Harding back with one finally swing.

“Elinor!” he called as he threw a familiar metal ball – the thermal detonator from the shuttle – to her.

She caught it in midair as Bridger followed Pyrondi in her escape to the bridge. She looked at it long enough for realization and confusion to register before Harding turned his attack toward her.

The Grand Admiral’s heart clenched. His daughter would be adequately protected. Bridger would make sure she remained safe. But Elinor…

His red eyes focused on the woman as she deflected a downward slash of purple, her own blue weapon making a hissing sound as Harding tried to drive her to the floor with brute strength. Thrawn had witnessed Jedi deflect blaster shots and although Elinor’s opponent was distracted, she too was also fixated on their fight – he would not risk hitting her for the sake of _possibly_ wounding the enemy.

As Thrawn scrutinized the scene, another turbolift arrived and a squad of stormtroopers exited; stormtroopers that were intent on the woman dueling with Harding. Their attentions were captivated by the fiery sword play, at least until they saw the man in Mandalorian armor. It became clear to Thrawn this particular squad had not seen Yermentic’s ship wide message _or_ had not been convinced _or_ more likely, upon seeing the very familiar green and brown armor, were convinced but just _didn’t_ care.

_No matter._

The bay leading to the ISD Chimaera’s bridge erupted in blaster fire.

 

The flare of blaster fire didn’t exactly catch her off guard, Elinor had been ready for it. But she tightened her grip on her lightsaber as she reached out feeling the blade length adjustment dial on the lightsaber that had once been hers. She parried Harding’s left sided attack with a spin and moved to slam the blade down over his head.

In her mind she turned the dial.

Harding’s blade collapsed and Elinor’s bright blue saber arced down slicing into the man’s left shoulder. He screamed but it didn’t sound so much like pain as it did like a feral kind of anger; a low hiss punctuated by a growl. The wound to his shoulder and arm wasn’t nearly enough to stop him; it only seemed to spur him on – driving his swings and stabs to the point where Elinor could only dodge them; she had no hope of blocking the force of such blows.

One particular downward swing left her no choice but to block, the power of it made her arms tremble. She was given no time to recover or prepare for his next swing – another strong downward sliding swing that caused the grip on her lightsaber to loosen just enough.

It was snatched away by a terrible force that knocked her whole body backward and without thinking she rolled away from his blade’s third downward plunge. Again, he growled, likely a sign of frustration.

Within the half second timeframe away from Harding’s perpetual onslaught Elinor saw the fire fight – both sides were getting increasingly close to one another. Cran, Ovally, Wilton, Toldera, and Dizon had taken up positions behind empty emergency weapons lockers. Another stormtrooper and Thrawn were closer to the blast door; using the other end of the lockers as cover.

The mental image flared in her mind a fraction of a second before she felt the displacement of the subtle ripple making up the existence around her. She twisted around, falling as she did, catching a glimpse of purple light. She began rolling in mid-air and continued the motion when she landed roughly on the metal floor of the bay. The purple light followed her flashing, snapping, hissing and she felt the heat of it so close to her skin, it made her shiver.

Elinor managed to move far enough away from the terrible heat of Harding’s lightsaber, arched up leaping to her feet only to see the man’s exultation in what he regarded as undeniable victory. Harding looked at her as a means to an end and if she put up too much of a fight, he would eliminate her.

This was the moment of truth – was she more trouble than she was worth?

The ripples around Harding were rolling and shifting as he assessed her, his blade posed to take another swing at her. Abruptly the emotions of the men around them shifted; the volatile ripples had suddenly turned into tsunamis – surprise, fear, glee, anger – the stormtrooper behind Thrawn had moved his E-11 blaster to the back of the Grand Admiral’s helmeted head and pushed him forward as a shield, keeping the man clad in Mandalorian armor between him and Cran’s group of stormtroopers.

The troopers behind the traitor rushed up to support their new ally.

Elinor gasped in horror.

_The dream._

“NO!”

Harding smirked knowingly as he advanced toward the line of stormtroopers intent on pinning Cran, Ovally, Toldera, Wilton and Dizon down.

“NO!” she sobbed, “THRAWN!”

Harding was at the line now, pivoting and bringing his lightsaber up; Elinor knew he would look her way, knew he would smile that evil smile – it was his way of telling her he had won – that after he did what he was about to do, she would have no reason to fight anymore.

_…You’re not alone!.._

The quiet voice tried to comfort her, but it was incredibly faint.

She wanted so much to look away, but she couldn’t.

Harding leered at her, the smile that had been so unsettling to her upon their first meeting at TES now made her sob with grief and helplessness.

It was _her_ dream; it _would_ happen.

That did not stop her from trying to make it _not_ happen.

She ran. The blaster burns didn’t hurt, nothing hurt anymore – except her heart. It broke as the tip of the lightsaber was thrust into the green chest plate, leaving the metal smoking.

It would seem, despite all her efforts to hide, after years of seeking shelter even from herself, Elinor Savona would still die of a broken heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hate me?
> 
> Good.
> 
> You may be feeling one or more of the following emotions:  
> a) confusion  
> b) rage  
> c) sadness  
> d) excitement  
> f) sympathy for me  
> g) disgust that I can't make a proper list because I forgot e)  
> h) annoyance over g)  
> i) annoyance in general
> 
> If any of the above apply it may indicate I've somehow managed to maintain your attention this long and you have been hugely patient and understanding (WHYYYYY?) 
> 
> Thank you - I intend to post the rest of this monstrosity tomorrow....
> 
> I will miss this.


	64. Flame and Shadow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning:  
> Violence
> 
> In This Chapter:  
> Major Cran's recollection  
> Elinor's vision - You're not alone!  
> Thrawn's real defeat  
> Athena made him do it  
> Tracking the pods  
> Cold reflections  
> Out with a bang: the death of George Harding...  
> ...and Elinor Savona.

 

Major Thae Cran swore in every language he knew, he was furious at the Grand Admiral for being so _incredibly_ reckless. How could someone so obviously intelligent – a master strategist and brilliant military leader – be so kriffing stupid!?

His curses resolved into horrified wordless screams as George Harding advanced toward Thrawn. His panicked shouts were drowned out by the explosions of blaster fire, one shot was particularly close to his ear and he instinctively jerked away, firing his own weapon immediately back toward the point of origin. One of the stormtroopers from the advancing squad fell in front of the man pressing forward with the lightsaber but the armor-clad body did nothing to slow him.

The Major heard Elinor’s cries – desperation and terror, tinged with grief as she clawed her way toward Harding. A wayward shot grazed her left calve muscle, another hit the inside of her right ankle; neither brought her own frantic attempts to reach Thrawn to a stop.

Dizon and Toldera had taken out two more of the squad but Harding would reach the disguised Grand Admiral before Elinor.

Years later Thae would recall the scene, stoically – fully acknowledging he and the others - Ovally, Toldera, Wilton and Dizon - had completely misjudged George Harding’s savagery.

They underestimated more than just that…

 

Elinor collapsed, sobbing, one hand holding the hole that had opened up in her own chest; it wasn’t a physical thing.

No.

It wasn’t as if Harding had stabbed _her_ with the glowing purple blade.

It felt like it though.

She crawled to the man in the armor; the stormtrooper behind him had backed away hastily moving behind the line of supposed allies.

There was nothing left.

Athena was safe – Ezra, Crissa and Drew would make sure she would remain so.

But Thrawn was dead.

As she lay gasping for breath next to him, she fumbled into the folds of the dress Harding had insisted she wear. Elinor’s hand touched metal and the cold truth settled into her stomach.

Athena is safe.

The Chimaera is safe.

_Thrawn is dead._

There was one last thing to do. Her eyes flicked up and she noticed he was staring at her intently, his lips pressed into a self-satisfied smile and his lightsaber still blazed, held at the ready in his right hand. The enemy squad of troopers had advanced closer to the Major’s position, their backs to Elinor and Harding.

She moved into a sitting position and looked up at him expressionlessly, Harding offered his left hand to help her up. Refusing it, she worked to stand on her own.

“Now, since your Grand Admiral is no longer a deterrent, perhaps you’d care to listen to my plans for _our_ future.” He smirked letting his left hand drop casually.

She stepped back slightly, inhaled slowly and smiled nastily, “I’d like you to consider _my_ input first.”

Harding wrinkled his forehead skeptically, “Oh, really? Do tell!”

Elinor let her spiteful expression contort slightly, “First, you and I are going to take a trip. We’re going to take an escape pod down to the surface immediately. You’re going to leave the Chimaera, her crew and my daughter on the ship and make no attempt to return.”

He grinned, “Hmmm, please go on.”

Her smile turned brittle, “After we arrive on the surface, you’re free to do whatever you choose.”

She had the distinct impression that he searched her – all of her, not just her body but her mind as well, in one fleeting look. Elinor forced herself to hold his gaze as he stepped closer. She took one step back, a nonverbal indicator to someone conversing in polite society that he had encroached upon her personal space. George Harding was, however, _not_ polite society.

Another step forward.

Another step back.

“I must say, you ask quite a bit, Elinor. What makes you think I’d consider your input?” he sneered at her.

One step forward

Elinor stood her ground this time, withdrawing the cold metal from her dress.

She smiled with faux-sweetness, “Because of this.”

He stared transfixedly at the shiny ball and Elinor moved a sliding key toward herself, pressing down on the trigger of the little device, making doubly sure she had a firm grip on it. She had the trigger mechanism set as a dead-man’s switch.

Upon release there was a three second delay at which point a concentrated amount of tibanna gas would be injected at high speed under extreme pressure from the metal cylinder, a piston like mechanism would ignite the gas instantaneously when the tibanna dispersal completed less than 0.38 seconds after triggering, causing the ejected gas to explode.

The thermal detonator blinked and made casual little sounds as if it were a cute bauble from a souvenir shop, not a weapon of mass destruction.

Harding licked his lips and deactivated his lightsaber, “Elinor, if you set a bomb off here, that means the bridge will be in danger – _Athena_ will be in danger.”

“The fire detection systems on Imperial Star Destroyers are amazing _plus_ the bridge is heavily fortified.”

She was ready for Harding to start poking at her mental barrier, but he didn’t; likely afraid she’d become distracted and drop the metal sphere she was holding.

“You’re really willing to risk your daughter’s life? Your own life - the life you could have with her?” Harding looked at her with a combination of admiration and amazement.

“Athena will be fine, so long as you’re no longer around.”

Harding threw his head back and laughed manically.

There was only one thing Elinor wanted now…

She wanted her daughter to never feel like she needed to _hide_. If she had to blow herself up to destroy the threat that would make that an impossible hope, it would be a small sacrifice.

She inhaled slowly, deeply and disregarded the sound of the man’s continued mirth.

_Calm._

_Peace._

_Passive._

For the first time ever, Elinor Savona opened herself up to the Force completely.

There was nothing else to lose, nothing to gain, nothing to hide, nothing to surrender. A huge burst of stimuli entered into her awareness, blaster fire raining down was background noise to the emotions sweeping the area. The whole ship was practically vibrating – somewhere in the din she found her.

_You’re not alone._

_Athena?_

An image flooded her mind and she jerked, feeling her hand tighten on the explosive she was holding.

…The woman on the bridge of the Chimaera in the same burgundy dress she now wore, with a lightsaber at her belt; braided hair, elaborately beautiful…

Standing next to her was the little girl, her hair also braided but hers wanted nothing more than to fly in every direction, her pale blue skin was beautiful and red eyes looked adoringly up at the woman next to her. The woman turned…

The bundle in her arms…

…The serene look on the woman’s face…

…A reflected image in the transparasteel – a flash of white…

Elinor gritted her teeth, trying to gently tell her daughter the truth.

_No. I’m sorry. That’s not possible._

The vibrating essence that was her daughter was insistent.

_You’re not alone._

Elinor felt the tears of regret pool in the corner of her eyes as she reached out further, taking the whole of existence in – the loudness of it, the roughness, the pain, the gentle breezes that swept some of the more enduring things about life, friendship, love, the relief of finding –

She had no idea her eyes were even shut. In fact, she had only blinked.

But in that instant while her eyes had been closed her daughter had guided her; convinced her to look beyond herself – and she found him. Carefully Elinor looked back over to the Mandalorian armor, unsure if she would see truth or a terrible lie. The man inside was dead – that was for certain.

_But Thrawn was still…here._

She could _feel_ him.

The spark of familiarity flared with the ebb and flow of the activity near her. He was as calm as ever, planning, calculating…

She inhaled shakily and frowned at Harding who had suddenly stopped laughing, eyeing her speculatively.

“Do you have something to tell me, Elinor?” he teased.

The feeling seemed to coalesce around the stormtrooper – the man that had been behind Thrawn, or ratherwhoever had been wearing his armor. The trooper fell back from the line, glancing up and to the sides as he withdrew various parts of a rifle from his belt and proceeded to assemble it quickly.

She swiftly turned her eyes away, back to Harding and tried to still her emotions.

_Harding doesn’t know he killed the wrong man!!_

“Not at all, but I think I might punch you in the nose again, Martin.”

Harding’s eyes narrowed and Elinor started to panic internally, scrambling her mental defenses while she tentatively reached out to the stormtrooper. That very distinct mind was methodically assessing, making adjustments, waiting…

_Almost._

_Very soon._

“What are you hiding, Elinor?”

He brought his full power to bare – he was either stronger than she remembered, or she was weaker, and she slipped. Before Harding could spin around in shock and approach the white armored stormtrooper – Elinor had yanked her lightsaber away from his belt catching it with her right hand, keeping the detonator in her left, igniting it with a snap-hiss.

The stormtrooper had finished his creation, aimed it at a cluster of five of the other white armored men and fired.

If she had been watching, she’d have seen several spheres discharge toward the group; they were the endnotes of a net that seemed to reach out like some living thing to engulf them.

Elinor would have also seen the web clench around all five and electrify immediately sending each man into spasmed screams. The remaining three troopers were inclined to find out what had happened, but their inquisitiveness was rewarded by Wilton and Ovally’s marksmanship.

Elinor didn’t see any of it though; she could not afford her normal level of curiosity because the tide had turned, yet again, on George Harding.

She paused the detonator, stowing it in the pocket of her dress, and charged.

 

The slow realization that the man in the green and brown armor was not the blue skinned alien was having a startlingly damning effect on George Harding.

This had been Thrawn’s goal all along.

Their attempt to infiltrate the Vogue had been an effort to destabilize him long enough for him to make his fatal mistake... The fatal mistake he made when he underestimated Elinor Savona and pulled her so irreversibly out of her hiding place.

The Grand Admiral smiled thinly.

Major Cran, and his men pressed forward as Thrawn carefully removed the stormtrooper helmet. Elinor and Harding were fighting furiously and moving rapidly toward the escape pod bay that serviced the bridge and surrounding support stations.

“Orders, sir?” Dizon asked looking carefully between the Chiss and the lightsaber duel.

“I must contact Jedi Bridger.” Thrawn turned to run but Cran motioned for him; the older man had his own helmet removed, a commlink to his ear.

He offered the device to the Grand Admiral, “Pyrondi, sir!”

“Commander, please inform Bridger he is needed immediately.” Thrawn spoke smoothly into the comm but his gaze never left the violent blur of blue and purple further down the bay.

“He’s on his way, sir.”

“Good. How are efforts to restart the naviga-“

The Grand Admiral broke off, the comm fell from his hand and he leaned forward intent on running toward her. He knew what she was doing, had guessed it and had even planned for it once.

Images flooded into his mind - Elinor, on the ground with the barrel of an E-11 pressed against her chin. Elinor playing Schubert in the lab – she was playing it for him. Elinor sobbing, begging him to forgive her for leaving as she gave birth to their daughter. Elinor laying on a bed, still and quiet – sleeping for days. Elinor reciting their poem before leaving him to come here, only to –

“ELINOR! NO!”

But several hands and arms restrained him, pulling him down before he could run after her, before he could try to change her mind; change his mind. Convince himself it had all been some fanciful dream.

_That is what this is!_

He struggled against the hands holding him.

… _I have seen your defeat like many arms surrounding you in a cold embrace…_

The blinding light that seared through the bay from the explosion seemed strangely cold. Perhaps this was really what the creature on Atollon had in mind for him? This was his true punishment, his defeat, for a life lived contrary to some bizarre being’s arbitrary set of rules.

A secondary explosion, more powerful than the first rocked the bay only seconds later. The fire protection system warning sirens screamed and drowned out his own wordless sounds of misery.

The fire-retardant spray spargers activated and he finally relaxed resignedly, allowing Cran, Dizon, Ovally, Toldera and Wilton to release their grip on his arms – it had taken all five to hold him back.

Several of the spargers were likely damaged during the initial blast because the fire was still burning. Thrawn looked up at the shadows on the walls from the writhing flames trapped behind the pod bay door only visible via a small transparasteel window. It was through this window, the light from the fire danced beautifully in the now darkened main bay.

The Grand Admiral stood mesmerized by the unexpected art caused by flame and shadow, shrouded in his own grief and the disbelief of those around him.

Ezra Bridger ran into the bay from the blast doors leading to the bridge, his face stoic. The young Jedi walked carefully over and stood beside the Chiss as Dizon and Toldera moved cautiously toward the pod bay and Cran tried to make contact with Pyrondi again.

“Thrawn.” Bridger nodded solemnly.

The Chiss did not respond but continued to study the wall with the strange moving shadows. He noted the bending and twisting of the flames in his peripheral vision and the gentle wavering of the shadows on the wall.

The flames seemed so violent; they needed to consume everything in their path to maintain themselves…but the shadows. They were delicate and smoother, and they needed very little from the flame to be content in their existence.

He had been the flame. She had been the shadow.

He wondered why he never recognized that. Thrawn felt the knife of regret so keenly it made him clench his fists. What else had he not noticed?

He sighed and became aware of Bridger for the first time.

_Bridger._

He had given her the detonator. Did he know what she had intended to do with it? Had he planted the thought inside her mind – some warped Jedi trick? As Thrawn recalled, those acts of deception were only successful on the weak minded and Elinor was certainly _not_ that.

But it wasn’t likely she could have survived such a blast. The pod bay would have vented to protect the explosive separators, if her body somehow survived the airlock release and closure, she wouldn’t have lived through the secondary explosion caused by the detonator.

“Why did you give her the detonator?”

The young Jedi looked miserably at the pod bay door, “Athena”

The Grand Admiral turned suddenly and in a single step he was towering over the boy. Thrawn had always been an imposing figure but now in grief his eyes flashed dangerously down at the young Jedi. Ezra had a brief remembrance of informing the man of his impending fatherhood – the discomfort of _him_ being the one to tell his one-time-enemy the news. It paled in comparison with this.

“Explain.”

 

Lieutenant Commander Crissa Pyrondi stood on the bridge of the ISD Chimaera waiting. Tobevoh, Yates and Dowry were also waiting but not like she was.

The Jedi had left to go to the aft bay. The Grand Admiral had needed his assistance and he went without question. Pyrondi still held the child in her arms, refusing to relinquish her to anyone other than Elinor or Thrawn, determined to believe her CO and her friend would request entry onto the bridge at any moment.

Athena seemed quiet, her red eyes shifting around as if she were getting acquainted with her surroundings. Crissa hoped the kid liked the color of durasteel because she was going to be living around quite a bit of it… _if_ everything went well.

The Lieutenant Commander was staring down at the bundle in her arms watching her head droop to the side as Athena gazed at the navigation display. The little girl scowled suddenly and the woman holding her almost laughed. The frown caused her forehead to quirk down – so reminiscent of her father but it was done so fluidly and with surprising emotion – a characteristic of her mother – it was rather comical to see the mixture. Crissa schooled her response though when the baby cried out mournfully; concurrent with a rumble from behind her and a tremble under her boots.

“Lieutenant, status?” she looked over at Dowry

The younger man looked positively sick, “Bridge pod bay is in vacuum ma’am.”

_What the hell is Thrawn doing now?_

“Vacuum sealed and –“

The shuddering caused Pyrondi to sway slightly. It was small as far as shock waves went but if it had come from the bay…

“Fire protection system in pod bay activated Commander, pods released.”

“Monitor their movements and scan for life.” Pyrondi snapped.

Tobevoh and Yates were already moving to the sensor display, Dowry was focusing on the bay readings. Crissa paced the walkway listening to updates from Tobevoh on pod trajectories – two heading to the surface but no life readings, eighteen more adrift. Two were already scanned with no evidence of life.

Yates chirped the news that Yermentic and Dalen Tela had successfully convinced all major military divisions represented on the Chimaera and commanders responsible for each station that the transfer of command would be imminent. Still nothing from the Grand Admiral.

Pyrondi knew if Thrawn was to conclusively take command he had to do it soon; the ship was a tinder box waiting to go up in flames. If someone wanted to start another mutiny this would be the perfect time…

“Lieutenant, any word from Major Cran?”

“No ma’am.” Dowry shook his head.

Crissa tightened her jaw, “Attempt contact.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Only seconds later the surprised looking young man waved her over, practically bouncing with delight and she recalled seeing Gilad Pellaeon taking a young Lieutenant to task for showing such enthusiasm on the bridge of the Chimaera.

They were on the bridge of an Imperial Star Destroyer; a massive ship of war - not at a cattle market on Shaum Hii! They were in the Imperial Navy and were not meant to have FUN – if the chastised young man was looking for entertainment, he would be shipped out to join a circus on Nar Shadda. As the Lieutenant wandered away looking crestfallen, the old Captain had turned to her and winked conspiratorially.

The Lieutenant Commander smiled slightly at the memory and sighed as she strode over to Dowry, “What is it Lieutenant?”

“Ma’am, the Grand Admiral is coming!”

Crissa blinked.

Apparently, the man’s threshold for excitement was well below the surface of the planet they were currently orbiting.

“And?”

“He wants us to scan the ejected pods, ma’am.” Dowry almost beamed with delight, “I informed him we were already doing so. He sounded pleased.”

She cocked her head and looked down at the man seated at the console, “Pleased? The Grand Admiral sounded pleased?”

“Yes ma’am.”

_He hasn’t spent much time around the Grand Admiral, then._

The door to the bridge opened without a request signal and Crissa turned, half crouching in a defensive position while still holding Athena in her arms. Thrawn marched in; immediately behind him was Ezra Bridger.

“Is everything alright, sir?” Crissa nodded to him.

The Grand Admiral did not respond, and her eyes shifted to Bridger who shook his head minutely. The Chiss moved quickly to the sensor display where Tobevoh was still tracking all twenty escape pods. She cautiously approached the Jedi, the baby girl in her arms squirming to reach for him. He took her carefully from Pyrondi and she looked up at the boy who had nearly killed them all at Lothal.

“What happened?” she whispered.

He paused, opened his mouth, closed it again and sighed.

“Elinor set off a thermal detonator in the pod bay. Harding is dead.”

Pyrondi gasped, “What about Elinor?”

Ezra looked down at the child in his arms, sighed again and shook his head uncertainly. The Lieutenant Commander continued to stare at him in aghast horror as he refused to meet her eye. Both the Jedi and the Imperial were lost in their own thoughts when abruptly there was a triumphant shout.

“THERE!”

 

Elinor Savona could not see.

The darkness didn’t bother her; somehow, she _knew_ she had fond memories of it.

What did upset her was she could not remember how she had entered her current state of blindness.

She inhaled deeply and felt the frigid air fill her lungs – breathing the cold felt like taking in tiny little knives. They dug into her chest mercilessly. She remembered the feeling of her first winter at college; a painful learning experience since she had never owned a heavy coat.

The memory of her first winter coat opened the flood gates…

_College…_

_…Graduate school…_

_…TES..._

_…The Chimaera…_

_…Thrawn…_

_…Athena…_

_…Harding!_

She jerked and hit her head on something. Elinor groaned and as the dull ache receded her memory of how she lost her sight slowly return…

But with it came the realization that she would, very soon die.

Frozen in the depths of nothingness.

She coughed out a chuckle; her lungs burning with the cold.

_Perhaps I’ll turn blue?_

 

He had no longer seemed intent on killing Thrawn.

She drew _her_ power from her relief; he didn’t like that and so drew _his_ power from that. Harding was still determined to overpower her in every way, making her stomach turn as he amused himself with his own sick thoughts. But he was weakened; he could no longer tap into her despair and use it to manipulate her. Harding had to focus on his anger and rely less on his ability to see other people’s weaknesses.

“You and I are gods, Elinor.” he leaned in toward her as their blades clashed, his face was pale, and his smile was forced, “Gods don’t consort with mere mortals.”

“Go consort with yourself Harding.”

He grinned and push back, his purple blade hissing furiously against her own making her wince at the sound. He attempted to worm his way into her mind and her resistance infuriated him. Harding continued to block her attacks; Elinor continued to block his.

They seemed doomed to fight until both or either of them became so exhausted they could no longer continue or one of them made a fatal mistake…unless something changed.

Pivoting away from a particularly violent thrust, she allowed herself a little more time to assess her current position within the bay. She and Harding had maneuvered themselves toward the corner of the cavernous room, on the starboard side of the turbolifts near the blast door entrance to the escape pods.

A hazy idea formed in her mind as she blocked another one of her opponent’s powerful downward strikes. It made her wrists hurt and she found she could no longer hold him off, instead choosing to slide away from the blow after her initial deflection.

The concept, upon entering her mind, was dismissed instantaneously as ridiculous and potentially dangerous – quite possibly suicidal – but if Harding continued to press her with more of those mind-bogglingly powerful downward hits, her endurance level would diminish.

As if he sensed her apprehension he swung again over her head, like he was wielding an ax – Elinor didn’t block the swing with her blade, she was able to dive out of the way, but just barely.

_Time to consider alternatives, Elinor!_

She slowly made her way to the escape pod bay. Upon reaching the bay door she reached out and felt the door panel in her mind. Focusing on it she triggered it and the door opened but it almost cost her everything.

Harding pressed forward; another one of his downward swings knocked her back. Elinor fell backward through the door and clambered hastily away from the man with the purple lightsaber, watching him carefully as he advanced toward her quickly.

He chuckled, “I like you on your back, Elinor.”

He raised his blade up to take another swing, but she shifted, deflecting from her prone position, rolling away from him as he tried to slam his foot down to pin her in place. Before he returned to his full height, she was on her feet again and she was right where she wanted to be, right in front of an escape pod.

What she was planning was going to take a lot of concentration.

He seemed to sense her sudden resolve because he launched himself at her, jabbing his blade in the transparasteel viewport of the pod behind her mere centimeters from her head; grabbing at the wrist of the hand holding her own lightsaber. She jerked away and used the brief time in which his hands were far away from his body to place a solid punch to his face and a knee to his groin. He screamed in pain and rage and she twisted away from him.

“I told you I was going to punch you in the face again,” Elinor spat.

“Little snake.” He growled as he shifted slightly, his movement making him wince, “I was going to be gentle but now I’ll do as you deserve.”

And with that, she could no longer breathe.

An invisible hand had grabbed her by her throat and had pinned her up against the wall between two of the pod entrances, Elinor tried to move her lightsaber, but it too was held in place by an invisible hand. Harding looked as if he was completely overtaken with the task of holding her, his brow furrowed in anger – waiting for her to lose consciousness, no doubt.

Her left hand was free, and she clawed at her throat in vain.

_The detonator, Elinor!_

She let her hand drop from her chest and dug in her pocket, feeling the metal sphere and its sliding trigger switch. There were three positions. One was disarmed, the second was a ten-minute timer trigger regardless of whether someone held the switch or not, the third was the three second timer dead man’s switch.

Elinor felt one click – Position Two.

Then the second click – Position Three.

Black spots were starting to form in her vision. There was only one last thing that might save her, she reached out to the Force trying to see the key pad next to her. What did the escape pod key pad look like? She couldn’t remember…and she was getting dizzy.

Lever pull with red button activates the pod – that’s the way it was on the Lambda…was it universal. If it wasn’t then it should be…

_Focus, Elinor!_

Lever.

Button.

She heard the door whoosh open. With her last ounce of energy, she withdrew the detonator from the folders of her dress, watched as George Harding’s eyes widened in fear and shock. His scream of rage coincided with the release of the terrible pressure from her throat, chest and wrist. She tossed the detonator to her left and his wild hate filled gaze followed it, but she was already in motion. She deactivated her lightsaber as she gasped for breath.

ONE.

Elinor stumbled into the pod behind her.

TWO.

Her eyes searched for some sort of hatch closure panel. Found it…

THREE.

The blast rocked the pod and a wave of heat and fire rushed toward her as her fingers clawed at the hatch closure panel. The hatch with its transparasteel porthole slid into place just as a burst of red, orange and black crashed into it – searing and roiling and causing the little emergency vessel to lurch dangerously as the explosive separator charges had entered their activation logic.

The thought suddenly struck her. She didn’t know anything about escape pods, but she did know about the Chimaera’s fire protection system and to avoid sending the pods out inadvertently, the pod bay would be vented – an airlock would automatically be opened.

Vacuum would evacuate the fire. But if it was gas based from an internal attack (i.e. thermal detonator) the system would continue to purge or use retardant until all the detonator’s tibanna was gone or suppressed.

It was _meant_ to be an elegant system but –

_Oh shit._

If the explosion had hit a sparger it could inhibit the system’s ability to extinguish the flames, which meant the activation logic would continue to tick down because the fire would still be live.

Furthermore, if the explosion happened to take out a sparger it was likely the tibanna gas in its lower quality state had condensed onto nearby structures making the surroundings extremely volatile and more prone to secondary explosions.

Elinor stared out the transparasteel viewport trying desperately to figure out a way to keep the mechanical clamps intact even if the explosive release mechanism was to initiate.

Perhaps she could drive her lightsaber into the end of the pod wedged up against the Chimaera’s pod bay like Ezra did in the elevator at the Vogue…but if the explosive separator went off, she’d be digging into nothing and it wasn’t likely a lightsaber would hold true for very long against the rocking motion of multiple explosions.

She looked out into the bay trying desperately to look up and to the left to check the condition of the spargers when there was a blinding flash of light that seemed to sear through her eyes.

The dreaded secondary explosion had occurred.

She sardonically mused over the condition of the spargers – they were indeed damaged and the fire protection system in general – a terrible design, to be sure. She even managed to laugh as the escape pod she was in, ejected from the massive Imperial warship and plummeted away; the woman inside it went tumbling around clumsily trying to find a safety restraint.

After all, Dr. Elinor Savona was taken out by a single point of failure and would likely die over the bane of every engineer’s existence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello,
> 
> Hope you like sad endings.
> 
> Ohhhh I'm just teasing!
> 
> Hey...it can go either way. It depends on how bad traffic is on the way to pick up my takeout. I can easily rewrite this thing and kill someone! :-D
> 
> ((gasp!)) Great bumper sticker idea: "Get out of my way or I'll kill a character in my fan fic!"
> 
> No? No...ok. Sorry.
> 
> In all seriousness, I cried at the end - this silliness has kept me sane for the last few months! I don't know what to do with myself now. I've had to start a whole new story! Maddening.
> 
> Thank you again for all your encouragement in this - I was really nervous about posting this at the beginning. It sounds kind of funny now, but I've never done anything like this. Never written anything before except calculations and technical position papers. This was a first for me and the encouragement and enthusiasm I received was really appreciated.
> 
> Thanks  
> -N!


	65. Non Occultatum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning:  
> Blood, ((cough)) Main Character ((cough)) death.
> 
> Note:  
> Non Occultatum is Latin for "Hidden No Longer"
> 
> In This Chapter:  
> Smitten?  
> Fishing for a pod  
> Alive...Barely...Gone  
> Come back.  
> Ezra's new home  
> Hypothermia and blood  
> Can't see...  
> No longer hiding  
> News  
> Finger painting  
> 0200 Wake up  
> Chimaera repair complete  
> Namesake  
> In the dark  
> Cran is bored  
> Spew and Drew  
> SPAM for the girl in your life  
> Leaving  
> A free farm and not taking Bob Barker's advice  
> To see a thing is to understand it  
> Drew and Crissa  
> A friends amazing journey  
> Planning...

 

The ship-wide announcement came through and Tabitha and Dalen both stood and watched as the crowd of techs, crewers and junior officers cheered. They had reported back to the Engineering lab after having gone to various parts of the Chimaera to report to stations, relaying the message – uncertain if Klary had distributed false information via the public address system.

As with most of the crew, Yermentic had pleaded her case to, those that had returned to the lab reported that the commanding officers, department leads and most of the stormtrooper captains were very willing to sit and wait for any evidence that the Grand Admiral had returned. Some were a bit more hesitant, fearing repercussions from the Commander, but were convinced that their identity would be lost in the hubbub if Thrawn was still missing.

Tabitha walked slowly out of the lab and made her way to sick bay. It would be a very long recovery, more ways than one.

So much had been lost.

She heard someone jog up behind her and her hand instinctively crept down to her service weapon.

“Tabitha?”

It was Tela.

“Yes, Commander?”

“I realize that you’re going to be busy – we’re all going to be busy but…when things settle down, maybe we could get some of that weird drink together- the coffee stuff,” the Head Engineer looked strangely nervous and Yermentic never remembered seeing him that way, “You can tell me about the surface -I’ve never been there,” he hedged.

For some reason the word “smitten” came to her mind and the CMO found herself blushing.

_Kriff Tabitha, you’ve been spending too much time around Elinor Savona!_

“I’d like that Dalen.”

 

It would take at least another thirty-one hours for all the Chimaera’s systems to come back online. After having been dormant for so long, it was likely there would be problems – acceptable performance in all six states of operation for every system and subsystem would need to be verified – a monumental engineering challenge.

Grand Admiral Thrawn was significantly less worried about those tasks than the one taking place before him now.

He watched the two TIEs carefully maneuver around the planetary moon, reduce their speed; almost matching the tiny craft they were pursuing.

He keyed the comm.

“Excellent Commander, engage.”

“Yes, sir.”

The Commander, a talented pilot (just ask him), fired. It was not his weapon’s system that hit the craft he was adjacent to, however. Instead a thick cable with a large flat magnetic harpoon shot out and the pilot activated the magnet.

Unfortunately, the lock process was not gentle despite the pilot’s exceptional skill in matching the pods vector, and the little vessel lurched due to the change in acceleration. Shortly thereafter, the Commander’s wingman engaged his cable, thus righting the escape pod.

“Commander Fel, do you anticipate any obstacles in bringing the pod into the main hanger bay?”

“No, Admiral. We’ll have to tighten up a little, get rid of some slack but we can do it, no problem.”

“Good. A medical team will be standing by.” The satisfaction in Thrawn’s voice was evident to those on the bridge; the people who had spent the most time with him over the past few months.

“Yes, sir. Also, Admiral. It’s damn good to have you back, sir.”

Pyrondi felt her nose wrinkle in amusement and saw Tobevoh’s frown over Fel’s crass attitude.

“Thank you, Commander.” The Chiss replied smoothly, “It is good to be back. I await your arrival in the main hanger bay.”

The Grand Admiral turned, gestured to Bridger; his eyes turning to Pyrondi, “Commander, the bridge is yours.”

Crissa stood a little straighter, “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

 

Thrawn had pressed the Jedi three times for insight into the passenger aboard the escape pod. Bridger would only tell him the survivor was just that – a survivor.

Alive. Barely.

The pod’s life support system had not been activated per narrow band sensors and thruster engagement was not attempted – the ship’s hall was as cold as deep space. Likely the inside of the pod was well below the freezing point of water; a very uncomfortable temperature for most humans.

He walked quickly down the passageway toward the hanger bay, Ezra Bridger following closely behind.

To come so close to ultimate victory – to have lost her or have been under the impression that he had, only to find her again – and then to have her snatched away permanently…The Grand Admiral clenched his jaw as he exited the turbolift in time to see the lead TIE land, the pod scrapping the floor of the bay underneath it. The second TIE landed even less gracefully, making a terrible clanking sound.

He noticed the Jedi wince and heard Yermentic scream an expletive followed by a string of directives for several stormtroopers to open the pod door so she could enter and treat the passenger.

Ezra suddenly stilled, and his shoulders hunched.

_Elinor was gone._

The Grand Admiral strode briskly to Yermentic’s side as the troopers finally released the hatch. The CMO charged forward and skidded to a halt, swearing furiously.

“Get a portable bacta tank! NOW!”

 

_You’re not alone!_

I know.

_Come back._

I’m not gone. Am I?

_Come back._

It’s not too late?

_No. Come back. You’re not alone!_

 

The young Jedi didn’t hear the conversation between the girl and her mother on the cusp of death; didn’t know what was said, he could only guess. But he felt the surge of relief and overwhelming love through the Force. He felt her return – like a sun rising to melt ice.

Athena tentatively reached out to him, bringing him into the warmth.

_You’re not alone, either!_

They weren’t _better_ than his family on Lothal, in fact some of the Imperials were downright strange, Thae Cran had a tendency to be miserable and Thrawn was intent on eventually strangling him, but Ezra Bridger had found a home.

 

The hypothermia was what scared Tabitha the most followed by the blood, after all, she hadn’t been wearing her restraint. Based on the gashes to her head, it was likely her skull had been crushed due to the force of impact to the inside walls of the pod.

Elinor hadn’t initiated the stabilizers, the ventilation systems, the lighting systems; nothing.

The doctor raged in fearful frustration, “How can someone so obviously intelligent and technically minded not press a damn button!”

 

Pyrondi stared at the comatose woman floating in the bacta tank.

“She probably lost consciousness as soon as she got into the pod.”

“Well, she sure as all Nine Hells better get through this,” Yermentic said bitterly, “if she doesn’t Thrawn will kill me.”

Another thought seemed to occur to the CMO, and she shot a look at the Lieutenant Commander, “You’ve talked with your boyfriend, yet?”

“Who?”

Yermentic rolled her eyes.

Crissa sighed, “Yes. He’s being transported up in the morning.”

The doctor wiggled her eyebrows, “Mmm-hmmm.”

Gossip was like the plague on an Imperial Star Destroyer and the latest was that the CMO and the Head Engineer were spending their spare time together.

Pyrondi was about to give Yermentic an ear-full but closed her mouth suddenly when she saw the white uniform reflected in the transparent surface of the bacta tank. Both women turned suddenly to see the Grand Admiral staring at the floating ethereal figure; both discreetly excused themselves and he stepped forward.

Thrawn reflected on the last time she had been unconscious for so long; laying before him unresponsive for days. It had only been twenty-three hours since prying her out of the escape pod but every second was an eternity.

The hypothermia, concussion and the cauterized burns from Harding’s lightsaber on her shoulders were the worst; her other wounds consisted of gashes, scrapes, a blaster graze, and bruises making her pale pink skin turn black, blue, red, green and yellow.

He watched her.

He always watched her.

_“Elinor? Can you hear me?”_

_“Do you know that I love you?”_

Thrawn continued to stare as he spoke softly to her through the intercom, gave her a status on the ship, told her about their daughter; recited their poem.

He watched and waited. But nothing.

The Grand Admiral inhaled deeply and stood to leave, looking over his shoulder one last time…

Elinor’s hand was outstretched, her fingers splayed against the wall, but her eyes remained closed. Thrawn turned quickly back pressing his own hand to the tank.

“Elinor? Can you hear me?”

Her eyes shot open darting around urgently searching, she tried to call out and jerked in sudden panic. Her eyes continued to wander, and she started to thrash madly.

Finally, the Chiss understood.

Elinor Savona once again could not see him.

 

Ezra listened intently as did the Grand Admiral as she explained what had happened. Her eyes, unseeing shifted restlessly as she recounted the choking sensation, the detonator, the pod and the explosion that had blinded her and sent the little craft hurtling away from the Chimaera.

With her loss of vision, exhaustion and unfamiliarity with the pod’s operation, she could not find the controls to even send out a distress signal and she drifted in and out of unconsciousness. It was amazing she had survived at all under the conditions they had pulled her from.

The young Jedi noticed immediately upon conversing with her - reaching out tentatively to get a sense of her - that Elinor had changed dramatically. She was open to the Force, free; no longer hiding.

After his visit with her he felt Athena’s gentle nudge – her way of asking if he was there.

He smiled slightly and sent back an affirmative as well as a mental image of the girl’s mother.

The feeling of excited happiness bubbled up followed closely by something else – another presence; a different voice calling out in wonderment via the Force.

It was of contentment, as well - pleasure over the girl’s delight.

_Elinor._

Indeed, she was no longer hiding.

 

She sat up in bed and smiled as he came into the room. Thrawn could not get near her without her knowing he was close. He smiled tightly and cupped her hands in his, kissing her wrists as her smile broadened.

“I’ve got some news for you.” Her smile was radiant, and he was very much looking forward to her being discharged from sick bay.

“Oh?”

“Doctor Yermentic did some tests.” Her voice sobered.

Although she couldn’t see, he cocked his head slightly and arched his eyebrow in question. Many possibilities entered his mind.

The woman he loved was ill, she was dying of some archaic hereditary disease that, had she lived in Imperial space would have been extinct or eradicated before it had time to fester. She moved her head slowly from side to side keeping her eyes fixed on one point, slightly lowered as she bit her lip.

Perhaps his Chief Medical Officer had changed her conclusions about Elinor’s vision, and she would never regain her eyesight?

Elinor exhaled shakily and smiled, “I’ve been given some restrictions. They’re really dietary. I’ve been beaten up a bit so Yermentic said we’ll have to see – we should know more in a few days. I’m not too far along.”

Thrawn became very still next to her.

“About five weeks. So if Athena was normal then –“

He could no longer contain himself. He cupped her face and pressed his lips to hers in delighted relief.

_Another child._

“I thought you might be happy.” She smiled slightly as he rested his forehead against hers.

He snorted, “That is stating it mildly, Doctor Savona.”

 

Her eyesight slowly returned, and Elinor took to the Engineer Lab. She struggled to see the small tools and computer readouts nevertheless she desperately wanted to assist Tela and the others. The Head Engineer had insisted he would consult with her, but she suspected he was ordered by the Grand Admiral to keep his requests to a minimum until her vision returned to normal.

Drew was brought to the Chimaera to see her and he held her arm and walked with her along the expansive walkways of the ship as he gazed out at the planet below, stammering in utter wonderment.

“Hey I noticed tha’ picture in yer lab – did Athena draw tha’?”

She stared into nothingness; still being extremely nearsighted after the blast prompted her to give up trying to look past the length of her forearm. Elinor made a face and her head wobbled awkwardly about her shoulders, as she tried to remember a picture in the Engineering lab. “No,” she said slowly, “I don’t think so.”

“Welp, it’s real colorful. Gotta lotta lines too. Was thinkin’ Athena was getting’ inta finger paintin’.”

Ellie smiled blindly up at her brother as he led her back to her quarters.

The next day she searched her lab, mostly by feel for the colorful display Drew had described. On the wall, next to the darkened area where Thrawn would stand protectively watching over her, hung a canvas.

Kandinsky’s Improvisation 42

 

The morning sickness started the next day – very early. At 0200 she staggered blindly into the ‘fresher heaving – Elinor was relieved she couldn’t see the look on Thrawn’s face. The Grand Admiral insisted Yermentic be summoned directly to where she lay in an embarrassed heap on the floor.

Tabitha stabbed her with a needle, with probably a bit more force than was required, muttering about her having daily injections to limit the severity of the nausea and something about her not turning into a malnourished Ho’Din…

“Now, don’t rock the baby to sleep for at least another fifteen minutes, then you two can go back to doing whatever you were doing when Elinor got motion sickness.”

She could practically _hear_ the other women smirking and she blushed furiously.

Thrawn growled at her to leave.

 

The Grand Admiral studied the display and smiled thinly. He had known from the beginning the woman was brilliant.

It had been ninety-five planetary days since the Chimaera’s systems had come back online and Elinor Savona had once again, lead the ship’s engineering teams through the repair process.

Indeed, once she had completely regained her vision and the morning sickness had gotten somewhat under control she was happily back in the lab; Athena usually nearby and crawling cheerfully around in her confined play area – made by several of the techs. On rare occasions Elinor would go out into the field but to Thrawn’s relief she seemed aware of her own limitations and having a distended mid-section inhibited her movements significantly.

The thought caused his lips to quirk up even more.

_His child._

Due to arrive any day now.

 

The boy was born late.

It would be the last time he was tardy for anything

Gilad, for obvious reasons, did not resemble his namesake. He looked exactly like his father, with dark hair, intense red eyes and blue skin a shade darker than Athena’s.

He was wide awake and inquisitively gazing out at the world around him, taking in the glowing eyes; exactly like his own and the woman smiling tiredly down at him. And although he wouldn’t learn it for another year and a half, his father spoke softly to him in his native language.

His mother kissed his forehead gently and he finally felt the strangeness of having entered the world in the form of exhaustion. As his eyes drooped slowly that same soft voice in that same language lulled him to sleep…

 

At Commander Tela’s persistence, Elinor became the Chimaera’s Head Engineer again. The Grand Admiral’s only insistence was that she be allowed regular reprieves. Tela happily agreed to be her secondary and to deal with over-night emergent issues.

The Test Plan data records from the ship’s previous startup were helpful in deciphering several bits of conflicting information – mostly pertaining to the dampeners which had caused a great deal of angst amongst the techs. The Leads had been extremely rigorous with their assessments of all the subsystems and the full plan had been completed with the exception of a micro-jump – hyperdrive and dampener check combination.

Elinor looked at the darkened lab, a wave of melancholy threatening to overtake her previously reflected upon triumphs. The next few weeks in the schedule were allocated to resource acquisition and long-term planning. The Chimaera was loading up and getting ready to leave…

She sighed.

“You still require looking after?”

“Yes, I know I’m running late.” She chuckled as she turned to find him standing in his usual spot.

“I was concerned you may be having a lapse in…judgement.”

Elinor smiled playfully at the Grand Admiral, “I haven’t been traipsing around mynock goo in my underwear lately.”

Thrawn’s eyebrows quirked up slightly, “Pity.”

“I did find something you might like, though” she grinned, and her face flushed.

“Oh?”

She opened up the top drawer of her desk, keenly aware that his eyes were on her – she was after all wearing a new dress - dark blue and cut in exactly the same way as her favorite gray one had been. Elinor found what she had been searching for and turned back around to find him much closer.

She bit her lip and casually showed him what was in her hand.

“I thought maybe…”

The Grand Admiral smirked at her, provoking a small giggle as she started walked casually to the back privacy rooms, tossing a sly grin over her shoulder. She saw him loosen his collar and move to follow her.

He caught up with her, pulled the old sawdering glasses from her hands and placed them on over her eyes. He picked her up and hefted her over his shoulder as she laughed.

Elinor could already feel his hands start to work on her new dress.

 

Thae Cran sat down groggily at the table in the mess hall. He hated the fact that he had become so damn dependent on the Bantha piss concoction the primitives on Earth called coffee. He growled an expletive as Tela sat down next to him looking extremely satisfied with himself, his life, and the galaxy as a whole; it made him want to pull his service weapon out and start shooting…that was until the engineer put a cup of coffee in front of him.

Cran grunted a resigned _thanks_ and drank in silence; his hunched shoulders and head finally moved back, but even with his improved posture the Major still looked miserable. Yermentic plopped down across from Tela and smirked knowingly at both men.

“Thae. Dalen. How are things?” she chirped happily.

Cran shot her an evil look; Dalen just smiled.

The doctor shrugged and with faux sympathy pushed out her bottom lip in an ugly pout, “Aw, did someone wake up on the wrong side of the ion cannon this morning?”

Cran sighed grumpily.

“C’mon soldier, tell me what’s going on?” she winked at him.

Thae knew the woman was brutal. She’d even sass the Grand Admiral to the point where he’d start glancing at the airlock like he was going to throw someone out of it.

_Probably himself, just so he wouldn’t have to listen to her jabber at him on the way to the door!_

Cran shook his head, “I’m just…”

Tabitha was looking for him to continue.

“I’m just…”

Yermentic pursed her lips, “Thae we’ve known each other for a _very_ long time. If you don’t fill in that blank, _I_ will fill it in for you and as Chief Medical Officer of this ship, you may not like what _that_ means.”

The man’s face was starting to turn red with anger and Tabitha arched her brow in challenge.

_Bantha shit!_

“Fine,” he snapped. “You want to know the truth?”

Yermentic bobbed her head. Tela sat as still as stone staring into his own concoction.

“I’m – I’m…Kriff! I’m BORED!”

Tabitha gazed at him dispassionately and Dalen looked up from his coffee in mild surprise.

“Oh.”

“OH?” he snarled, “OH?”

She shrugged, “It beats ‘Hmm’ as an answer.”

Cran slammed down his cup and stood to leave.

“Thae, wait!”

“WHAT?”

Tabitha didn’t even cringe at his vehemence, “I have some ideas.”

He stood waiting, his arms crossed over his chest, “What?” he growled.

It was Dalen who spoke, “One of my engineers failed her weapon’s training requal, I was wondering if you’d help her?”

Cran’s face contorted as if he had a mouth full of the sludge at the bottom of the coffee pot – or worse the dirt like leftovers from brewing the stuff.

The engineer continued, “Her name is Tunia Illium. She’s embarrassed by the failure but she’s a very capable sort of person. I don’t think you’ll find it a hardship to help her.”

For a very long moment Tela thought Yermentic had been wrong.

“Alright. Where’s her station? I’ll go talk to her and find out where she’s having trouble.”

_Damn, if the doctor wasn’t right._

“She’s on the Savona Team – like I said, a very capable person.”

Cran nodded.

“Fine.” He grumbled, “I’ll go talk to her.”

They watched as the grouchy Major marched out of the dining hall. Dalen smirked at Tabitha, “Do you think he has any idea we just set him up on a date?”

Yermentic snorted, “He’s as clueless as the rest of them.”

Tela raised his eyebrows.

The doctor rolled her eyes, “Pleeease I’ve been giving out contraception like it’s candy.”

 

Drew had his mouth open wide basking in the triumphant glow of an uncle who had gotten his nephew to do something the child’s parents hadn’t even been able to. That was of course when Gilad violently released the contents of his tiny stomach.

All. Over. Andrew.

“Elinor told you he won’t eat those green things!” Crissa wasn’t very sympathetic as she watched him spit and slap at his own face and chest.

“Yer suppose ta eat yer peas!” he screamed at her, “They’re good fer ya!”

Crissa wrinkled her nose, “Obviously.”

The Chimaera’s newest Commander grinned as she watched him clean himself and then the baby. The latter being completely content now that the offending food was out of him and likely off the menu for quite some time. Drew caught her eye and smirked.

“Ya like a man tha’ kin clean up puke?”

She shrugged, “I just like you.”

“Welp, alright then.”

 

Arton Dizon was striding down the Deck 8 causeway without his armor. The Grand Admiral had eased the requirements for stormtroopers not on duty – in fact he had relaxed a lot of the Code of Conduct. It wasn’t that he had been a hardliner or that the Chimaera was somehow a pleasure cruise, but rather Thrawn had always found a way to making serving aboard the ship about _service_ first.

If there was a physical discomfort the Chiss would ensure it was relieved so the injured party could better perform their task. The ship’s crew could be assured that any reasonable request would always be heard and considered by the Grand Admiral.

Still, when the Chief Medical Officer recommended a relaxation of the fraternization policy there was the Imperial Navy’s equivalent to an office party.

Of course, Thrawn had to think over it for a week and come up with a huge list of stipulations.

Couples could not be in the same direct chain of command, they would need to submit to health screenings three times per year and if the relationship were to end on terms that were less pleasant than a wink and a nod then a mental health assessment would be provided to both parties as would any other support as deemed appropriate.

Arton’s grandmother used to say something about a heart could stop and you’d be dead, but it could break, and you’d keep on living, but it would be less painful if you didn’t.

He hoped it wouldn’t be like that for him.

“Hey Super Sphincter!” A familiar voice called from behind him.

Despite his annoyance over the nickname he smiled, “Tobevoh, did you get stuck betting on the wrong dewback, _sir_?”

“No, I’m just waiting for Napoli.”

Dizon felt himself smirk. “Yeah we kind of guessed you and Yates were heading down that path.”

“So, what’s the news?” Tobevoh grinned sheepishly as he looked over at the stormtrooper Captain.

“Well from what I hear, Yermentic and Tela make lovey eyes at each other-“ Tobevoh made a gagging noise in the back of his throat, “-Pyrondi and Drew Savona are the next big thing. Cran started seeing a sweet little engineer but he doesn’t know he’s seeing her so it’s kind of a surprise.”

They both laughed conspiratorially.

“Toldera and Ovally are happy together, and I heard Wilton met someone in Security. I’m assuming you know Elinor had a son?”

The other bobbed his head in acknowledgement, “But what about you?”

Dizon shrugged, “I just met someone in Navigation. I really like her.”

Tobevoh grinned knowingly, “I’ll let you go then since you’re _finally_ off duty. Just don’t give her any of that Jerky shit – it’s only good for surveillance work!”

“Nope, it’s only SPAM for me nowadays.”

 

Elinor’s entourage arrived at the farm. They had found out from Drew what had happened to the barn and the fields – it was a sugar-coated version of the event. She advised against giving them what Fink would call “The E! True Hollywood Story.”

Tate hadn’t brought Sarah – he wasn’t sure if Ellie’s completed family would be present and seeing the blue skin and glowing red eyes might scare her senseless like it had him the first time. He didn’t need her regretting the ring on her finger when they had only just set a date, several weeks prior.

Elinor was thrilled with the news and like the others not surprised over Sarah’s acceptance of his proposal. It was when Tate told her the date – a June wedding – and insisted she come, that Ellie’s face crumbled.

“Fuck, Savona! Your bladder’s damn close to your eyes! You sure you’re not pregnant a third time – tell the blue guy to lay off a while!” Rick chortled.

Mark smacked him as Allen rolled his eyes.

“Don’t worry about it girlfriend, he’s just pissed because his freaky ass girlfriend couldn’t come, “ Fink gently patted her shoulder.

“I didn’t ask her to! I was afraid she’d try to dry hump the Grand Admiral’s leg.”

She sniffed and wiped a tear away, “Oh, sorry Rick, I didn’t know you got a dog.”

Mark and Allen howled with laughter, Tate was doubled over in hysterical giggles and Fink gave her a hug (“I’ve missed you so much, girl!”).

“Fuck all of you!” Rick smirked, “He was talking about Claire!”

Ellie stammered out an apology but the other men used her faux pas as an excuse to give Rick a taste of his own medicine.

Once the discussion of Claire and her oddities, coupled with Rick’s own ideocracies wondered to a hilarious conclusion, the conversation turned back to her. The topic came back to planning ahead; getting wings (“Would your – um – that is…um, would _he_ like chicken wings?”), running the Fun Run in Toobin Park (“Hey Savona, you sure you can run after spitting two kids out in less than a year?”), picking out colors for the wedding (“Oh. My. God. Tate, you have got to let me, and Ellie take Sarah shopping, right girlfriend?”)

Elinor sighed heavily.

She had to tell them she was leaving.

 

She walked slowly, holding one of Athena’s hands while Fink held the other. Allen carried Gilad. The rocks and gravel of Drew’s driveway would have been treacherous obstacles for her daughter just one week prior, but she was advancing at such a rapid pace she was afraid the girl would be doing Euclidian geometry in only a few days’ time.

Maybe this was how her own parents had felt…

Fink pulled her out of her own thoughts, “So when do you go?”

He sounded miserable and Elinor felt a hot sting behind her eyes.

“Too soon. Three days.”

He exhaled a choppy breath, “Is your brother going with you?”

She bit her lip, “We’ve talked it over and…yes, he’d like to go with us.”

“Oh.”

“There’s a problem though.”

Both Fink and Allen turned to her, both their faces twisted in their own unique way signally the various questions that they were waiting to sling at her if she paused just two seconds longer.

“I know you were looking for a house so you could move in together. Would you consider a free farm – house included?”

The procession stopped and Fink turned to Allen looking shocked, “Are you serious?”

She bobbed her head, “We don’t need money were we’re going – well – they don’t deal in U.S. currency.” She laughed.

Both men looked thunderstruck. Allen blubbering incoherently and Fink sobbed as they embraced each other and hugged Ellie. Gilad squirmed in Allen’s arms and Athena pulled at their legs. Elinor cried silently into Fink’s shoulder – how could she ever leave after only just now finding herself?

_All those missed opportunities…_

She tempered her emotions as Mark, Tate and Rick joined the group.

Ellie looked up at Rick questioningly, “Do you want to tell them?”

Rick’s eyebrows dropped, “Huh?”

She cocked her head and leaned in to whisper, “About you going too?”

“Ohhhhh that!” Rick grinned evilly.

Mark and Allen looked over at him suspiciously, they all recognized that grin.

“Well, ya see, Blue Man Group won’t let me take Clarie.”

“You mean your pet?” Mark muttered through giggles.

“No! No, he’s her pet!” Allen beamed wiggling his hips and making suggestive grunting noise.

Rick shot them both a nasty look, “And she’s really into aliens…like _really_ into them.”

There was a long awkward silence.

Elinor stood looking at him expectantly. It wasn’t that she was entirely disappointed he wouldn’t be going, but Rick was a part of home – albeit a crude part.

He tilted his head and raised his eyebrows encouraging her to extrapolate from his last statements. She pursed her lips angrily, Fink knew she wasn’t good at inferring things like this…

“Fuck Savona! Do I need to spell it out for you?”

She crossed her arms in front of her chest and began unleashing a tirade consisting of apt descriptions of Rick Haines: ill-spoken fowl-mouthed Neanderthal with catastrophic luck pertaining to the opposite sex likely stemming from deep seated feelings of male inferiority – the root cause likely being penile disfunction.

He laughed in her face as the others clasped their hands over their mouths in awe.

“Ok, I guess I do have to spell it out for you.” He smirked, “I probably would have to stop her from crawling all over your boyfriend – she’d really want to ride his saucer and fire his blaster – do you get the picture.”

“NO!”

He flung his head back and threw up his arms in frustration glaring at Fink, “You explain it to her, so she understands.”

“Oh, sweetie she understands alright – see her face. She’s ready to spay your _pet_.”

Elinor looked over at Fink, “No one is spaying anyone.”

“Really, Savona? ‘Cause at the rate you’re going you and Big Blue are going to fill up your little space ship. It might be a wise choice.”

Perhaps she wouldn’t miss Rick so much after all…

As an afterthought, he looked over at Athena and Gilad, “You do make cute kids, though.”

…Or maybe she would miss him just a little.

“So, you’re not going?”

“Nope.” He grinned at her, “I got a new job anyways – working for Efficient Engineering Solutions Incorporated. That’s Rachel Gratton Tubbs’ company. Kind of poetic, isn’t it? Plus, I got my little critter, Claire.”

Ellie couldn’t keep away the skeptically amused smile, “Hm, then I guess we won’t be sharing rooms after all.”

 

While Elinor was trying to come to terms with leaving her home, her friends – everything she’d ever known, Thrawn stood in the center of a very familiar room. He had never actually been there before, but he was intimately aware of the subtle color of the walls, the way the light entered the windows and brightened the living area, bathing the room and bring it to life.

The woman who once had lived there was gone.

She hadn’t died, really.

_She had evolved._

The Grand Admiral stood with his hands clasped behind his back studying the place; remembering. He had loved and respected the Elinor Savona that had once lived there.

The Elinor Savona that lay next to him every night; the woman who had given him two children was so much more. He was in love with her, yes. Respected her, yes. But the depth of feeling had grown to be something no longer terrifying; no longer a liability.

There was an old Chiss proverb: _To see a thing is to understand it._

Elinor Savona saw him completely, understood him completely, knew him intimately and still remained by his side.

He took one last look around the townhouse, echoes of memories; those first few weeks watching her, then purposefully, Grand Admiral Thrawn slipped silently away.

 

Andrew had said his silent good-byes; Crissa was standing by his side when he did it. He had packed up the house – donated most of the things that were worth donating to charity and packed the rest to take with them.

There was little he wanted to take. A couple quilts his mother had made, his father’s woodworking tools, some of his mother’s old jewelry, all the photo albums, and Ellie’s old teddy bear.

He couldn’t leave without saying so-long to the cows – he patted Marigold’s belly and told her that two weird guys would be along to milk her, and they’d take good care of her. They weren’t good with tits, so she needed to be patient with them. This got a laugh out of Crissa which he liked very much.

Now was as good a time as ever.

His mother had two rings – an engagement ring – a family heirloom with two diamonds and a sapphire – he’d given that to the blue guy, and he’d given it to Ellie (Drew was a bit relieved because he wasn’t looking forward to shooting the alien in the ass with his old bee bee gun if he hadn’t put it on her finger.) The second ring was her wedding band. It was plain – after all, Thomas Savona was not a rich man, but he loved his wife.

And Drew loved Crissa.

And it would seem…Crissa loved Drew.

 

They had lined up, their eyes red-rimmed. Elinor tried her best not to cry even before saying her goodbyes but the looks on their faces caused the memory of her father and Drew dropping her off at MIT to resurface.

_“…yer gunna ferget all ‘bout us...”_

_“…I won’t forget about you…”_

She hiccupped her sobs down as she hugged Mark, Tate, Rick, Allen and Fink. Her brother stood by, his own eyes red rimmed at seeing his sister in such distress; Crissa standing somberly next to him. Farther back behind them was the Grand Admiral not wishing to intrude. The Chiss suspected his presence would cause the group discomfort and did not wish them further pain than what they were already experiencing.

“Promise me, if you _can_ come back to visit you _will_.” Fink whispered in her ear.

Elinor stifled her cries, “I-I promise, Fink. I promise.”

And with that the five men that had sustained her through so much of her journey, drove back to Uptown. They would commiserate over chicken wings, Tabasco sauce and Diet Coke, toasting their brilliant and brave friend that had went on an amazing journey…and left the planet in a spaceship.

 

She waited until dusk – it would bring out her memories of youth; they were no longer so painful to think of. She grabbed a blanket and sat down behind the skeleton of the barn, smelling the burned ash and soot. Looking up at the sky, Elinor Savona pondered her strange existence, those mysterious riddles, all those equations…and her future.

The feeling behind her; his presence made her smile. She continued to look up into the sky as he sat down next to her, his glowing red eyes searching her face.

“Which one should we go to?” she asked motioning up to the stars.

He chuckled, “I do not know.”

She felt the smile tug at her lips, “You don’t have a plan? I thought you planned for everything?”

He leaned into her, “Not everything.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello,
> 
> Just one last thing before the Epilogue....
> 
> Don't wanna get too sappy - it's not my thing (really...I'm more of a sarcastic kind of gal.)
> 
> There are some things I've learned while writing this drivel over the last 4 months. I started on 11/21/18 - the week before I was laid off as a Senior Engineer - a job I loved and dedicated myself to for almost 10 years. 
> 
> You see, Elinor and I have a lot in common - I've been hiding for quite some time. I went to work, had few friends, I'd work through my lunch break, stayed late, worked weekends and absolutely loved it...but why? For what?
> 
> I've resolved to stop hiding - start living.  
> When (not if!) I get another position I'm going to take my damn lunch break.  
> I'm going to take it with other people and TALK to them.  
> I'm going to go home at a decent hour and I'm going to $ucking go and get out of the house during the weekend - even if its just to run outside instead of on the stupid treadmill. Note: Engineers generally turn to dust if the sun hits them but I figured with proper conditioning I'll be ok...
> 
> Don't hide. Life is too short. Don't look back and think of all those missed opportunities.
> 
> Don't get to the point where posting a SW fan fic is the epitome of wild and crazy.
> 
> Thank you once again for sticking with this.  
> -N!  
> 3/26/19


	66. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning:  
> Cheunh - translation in Chapter Notes
> 
> In This Chapter:  
> Ezra The Teacher of Athena The Wise  
> BABIES!!!!  
> Continuing to serve...in his own way.  
> Starlines

 

EPILOGUE

 

He woke slowly. Was it all a dream?

_No._

He could see the woman’s smile, her red eyes brightened, contrasting with her pale blue skin.

_You will?_

She asked him with images, feelings; as she always did. He felt himself smile in return.

_Yes._

His thoughts returned to the woman in the dream - Athena in only a few years

There could be no mistaking the enthusiasm and excitement in her next mental query, the little girl was likely bouncing around somewhere driving her parents mad.

_When?_

Ezra Bridger chuckled.

_When you are older. When your parents allow it. When you have better control._

The image of Elinor and Thrawn drifted into his mind.

_I will ask!_

He shook his head in bewilderment. For all Elinor’s caution in learning about the Force, her daughter wanted to jump right into learning everything.

_Be patient._

Athena took his advice; she was indeed wise.

 

Allen Mitchell pushed his glasses up his nose for the umpteenth time and continued to assess his work. He knew he’d have to put it down soon, he and Fink had to go into town to get their tuxes fitted for Tate’s wedding, they were going with Mark and Rick to scope out the bachelor party venue and they had to pick up a few odds and ends at the hardware store in their continued quest to fix the farm. The barn was restored but the house needed some work.

It did _not_ have air conditioning.

Fink had been appalled, “I do not like sweat! If I wanted to see a sweaty gay man, I’d get a bunch of old Richard Simmons workout videos.”

Allen promised to fix it, but he’d need to rewire the entire damn house and it wasn’t like Fink was particularly happy playing with wires. They joked that he spent most of his time with the other chickens on the farm.

He looked at the 14-gauge wire trying to figure out why in hell the Savona’s hadn’t used 8- or 10-gauge wire and realized they hadn’t owned anything that would require it, namely an air conditioning unit. He had reconfirmed his findings: yes, he’d have to rewire the whole damn house, when he heard the scream.

“ALLLLLEEEENNNN!!!!!”

_Oh shit._

He launched himself off the newly built front porch searching frantically for Fink, “Where are you?” he screamed anxiously.

“IN THE CHICKEN HOUSE!”

_The chicken house?_

Allen knew he meant the coop and if the man wasn’t bleeding to death, he’d likely take the time to kid him over the term. But based on the sound of Fink’s voice – breathy and excited – something important had happened.

Whether that important thing was good or bad, Allen was about to find out.

He skidded around the side of the barn and flung open the door to the stout building with the low ceiling, he cringed thinking of the different kinds of animal excrement he sprinted through to get there with only his loafers on – it was probably for the best, he didn’t much care for the shoes anyways.

He gasped when he saw Fink and opened his mouth to demand an explanation – he did just run through cow shit and who knew what else to get there in a timely manner to see his boyfriend beaming ear to ear with his hands clasped together gayly like Maria from the Sound of Music.

“Allen! Allen! Look!!!” Fink cried with such wonder and enthusiasm that Allen’s _I’m-mad-at-you-because_ fuse short circuited.

Instead he carefully tiptoed over to where the other was standing, hovering almost protectively over a hen who was staring up at the two men with barely concealed contempt. Her head cocked to the side and her eyes narrowed in a facial expression that was reminiscent of an irate woman, a comical poultry version of “do you _fucking_ mind?”

Underneath her voluminous puff of feathers, a small movement and then another – finally a tiny little head popped out. Allen jerked and despite the scene from Alien flashing briefly into and out of his mind, he managed a smile.

“BABIES!!” Fink squealed.

The hen rumbled a warning; another look – this one said clearly, “take your strange circus and go away!” Allen chuckled rubbing the back of his neck as he looked at the chicks that had started to wiggle out from under the hen.

“WE HAVE BABIES!” Fink glowed, “BABIES!!”

He stammered, “Yeah, that’s great Finky.”

“Oh! Boo! I’m – “ Fink start to cry, “- I’m a MOMMY!”

Before Allen could stop him, Fink bent down to give the harassed looking bird a giant hug.

It was entirely conceivable that wherever the chicken’s previous owners were - perhaps hundreds of lightyears away – even _they_ could have heard the squawking and screaming from their comfortable location in the cold of deep space.

Regardless, Benjamin Finkleton and Allen Mitchell were very happy with the little additions to their life.

 

He inhaled deeply and looked out at the blackness, his glowing red eyes touching the tiny random pinpricks of light that were speckled haphazardly across the backdrop of space.

_Stars._

So many of them, yet so few. Huge expanses of space between each of the little points of light. With the underlying knowledge that there was no map, no star chart, no means to find a way forward, the image of such vastness would likely have provoked many other beings to spiral into a self-defeating panic.

He, on the other hand, found the dark emptiness soothing.

The only challenges placed on him here were the most worthwhile, rewarding and challenging. They were those demands that he placed on himself. The Empire was out there, with its petty squabbling bureaucrats and its unsuccessful military gestures. Despite its failings, he would continue to serve…

_In his own way._

His own way would likely mean returning to the Ascendency.

Grand Admiral Thrawn smiled slightly.

Even after two years he highly doubted his return would be celebrated by anyone in Imperial space. The location of the 7th Fleet was a mystery; even if the Chimaera had arrived at Coruscant declaring a victorious homecoming from a faraway galaxy, the Empire’s ruling class would require the ship’s commander provide some excuse. The Emperor would be extremely eager to hear his explanation; Darth Vader with lightsaber in hand, probably less concerned over the explanation and more interested in simply killing him.

It was an explanation Thrawn was not interested in giving. Not to the Empire. Not to the Ascendency.

_Not to anyone._

That wasn’t to say he would no longer serve. He would _always_ do his duty; the Grand Admiral would never _cease_ to serve. There were, however, things that could and would be afforded to him.

His children would never be used against him.

The Unknown Regions would provide a safe place for them and he would be able to continue his service free of fear that they and Elinor would be used in some scheme or as political leverage. It would likely take years to even get to the edge of the Unknown Regions and the Ascendency. Perhaps another year or two to set up a base of operation…

His musings were interrupted by the reflection in the transparasteel – a willowy figure in burgundy.

His lips twitched upward. She was likely coming to check on the next hyperspace calculation. They were incredibly time consuming – from the Imperial perspective, with Earth hardware - and Elinor knew several of the crewers and engineers became easily discouraged when the jump sequence was not completed after eighteen hours. To his mild surprise she walked slowly past the Navigation station toward the forward viewport where he stood staring out into space. He watched her reflection as she drew nearer noting that her hair was braided elegantly behind her head.

She stopped immediately next to him; she too was admiring the stars.

“ _Ritot Mitth’raw’nuruodo_.”

He smiled tightly.

She was making significant progress with her Cheunh.

“ _Ritot ch’eo Ch’acico. Cart vah na_ Elinor?”

“ _Mar_. I have news.”

He glanced sideways at her, lifting his eyebrows in question. Before she could offer him anything other than a coy smile, Commander Pyrondi approached hesitantly. Thrawn allowed his eyes to flick to her.

“Commander?”

She bobbed her head, “We’ve completed ninety nine percent of the calculation, we should be able to make the jump to lightspeed within the next eight minutes sir.”

“Thank you, Commander. Proceed.”

Pyrondi turned and motioned for Ensign Vanya at Navigation to continue with her work; the young woman cautiously looked up from her console to gaze at the Grand Admiral in white and the Head Engineer in her burgundy dress. Even Commander Pyrondi – supposedly engaged to the woman’s brother– looked at the two like they were straight out of a holo-romance.

Vanya herself had started a hesitant romance with a stormtrooper Captain and wondered idly if he would ever look at her the same way the Grand Admiral looked at Elinor Savona. Her daydreams were interrupted by Pyrondi requesting a countdown clock and bits of the conversation from the couple standing near her console.

“-heard the dampeners are acting out again?”

“They will keep. What news do you have?” The Chiss Grand Admiral continued to look out the viewport, his posture slightly more relaxed. His hands usually clasped formally behind his back were now at his side as he stood waiting patiently for the woman next to him to speak.

“I went to sick bay this morning. Tabitha did some tests.”

She also continued to gaze out at the viewport – perhaps they were waiting for those tiny little spots of light to burst into starlines suddenly.

“Oh?”

Elinor turned to him and smiled slowly. The emotions that flickered across her face were so raw those watching on the bridge diverted their eyes away – such tenderness was not for them to witness.

Thrawn on the other hand cocked his head, the question had just a hint of concealed excitement, “Yes?” he studied her as a smile pulled at his lips.

“Yes.”

“ _K’et ch’auh t’eten_?”

She smiled mysteriously and leaned into him, whispering in his ear. He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her closer to him, prompting several small gasps from those in the crew pit below them.

Elinor blushed at the eyes watching the emotional response play out before them, “I should watch the jump.”

“The dampeners will keep. The next jump is in six days.” Thrawn tugged at her gently.

She frowned up at him and he was suddenly reminded of her standing before him over two years ago, angry over having to deal with her new bodyguard. He lowered his head and smirked at her, “ _Mah neo k’ta tsusan’t vah csarcican’t bapun ch’at vun’rcsa ch’an’ucw can’let’ehn_ _._ ”

Thrawn watched carefully as she processed his words, her face slowly turning red at the implication.

He motioned to Pyrondi, “Commander, you have the bridge.”

She murmured an acknowledgement as the crewers and bridge officers tossed furtive glances at the Grand Admiral as he attempted to lead the woman away.

Elinor pulled back slightly, “I really should be here when they jump though.”

“Later.”

“Later?”

“Later.” He murmured and he pressed his lips to hers as those impossibly small specks of light burst into starlines.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ritot ch’eo Ch’acico. Cart vah na  
> Hello my Beloved. Are you well.
> 
> Mar.  
> Yes.
> 
> K’et ch’auh t’eten?  
> Son or daughter
> 
> Mah neo k’ta tsusan’t vah csarcican’t bapun ch’at vun’rcsa ch’an’ucw can’let’ehn.  
> At our current rate, you will need to build another ship.


End file.
